Harry Granger and the Mirror of Erised
by Fedora Ferret
Summary: When a dentist opens his door and finds a little boy on the porch, he hasn't the slightest clue who he's taking into his home. Ten years later, that same little boy will enter a fantastic world, where magic mirrors tell you your deepest desires, a gruesome ogre fails basic English, and a familiar and malevolent spirit seeks a stone of great power.
1. The Weirdest Day

**Official notice of officialness: This story is intensely AU, featuring major differences from canon. However, only one of these changes is by my direct intervention. Every single other alteration is in some way caused by the original. Most will not go directly explained. You are free to speculate. You are also free to ask. Thank you for your time.**

It was as average a morning as one would expect for two young dentists and their two year old daughter in the small suburb of Ashford. Wendell Granger was the first awake, as was normal. He enjoyed early mornings; it meant an hour of solitude with a coffee and a good book.

The Grangers were an average suburban family, in an average suburban home. Wendell was a tall, broad shouldered man, his face clean-shaven and his hair well groomed, looking every bit the handsome gentleman. Monica was nearly a head shorter than him, completely befitting her gentle presence. The way her honey blond curls fell around her face and the soft features of her face honestly made him fall in love with her again every day. Their daughter, Hermione, had inherited all the best parts of both of them. Her mother's mouth, her father's eyes, and for some strange reason her Uncle Lloyd's nose. Much like her father, she had an intense love of books, and spent most of her time trying to figure out how to read them. The current office pool was how soon she'd figure it out.

The doorbell rang, knocking Wendell from his concentration on his book. He scowled in the direction of the door, and then glanced at the clock. Seven o' clock, too early for visitors of any sort, _especially_ uninvited. He stood, snapping _Inferno_ shut as he did so-Dante was always his favorite. He walked straight to the door and opened it just as the squeal of tires hit his ears, and he barely caught the sight of a beige car speeding away. He squinted. No one was on his porch. He looked into the bushes on the left, half-expecting to find a bunch of teenagers hiding there, and then panned to the bushes on the right. He stopped, though, when he caught sight of something in front of the door.

A baby in a basket.

Well, a toddler, actually, albeit a small one. A toddler with a shock of black hair and a suspiciously fresh looking scar zigzagging across his forhead.

The first few moments of confusion were completely understandable. However, being the intelligent and sensible person that he was, Wendell took it in stride. His first action, obviously, was to read the note pinned to the child's blanket.

_To the residents of this house,_

_I would like to apologize in advance for the burden I have placed upon you. The boy's name is Harry. His mother is my wife's sister, who died in a car crash the other night along with her husband. The boy was left on our doorstep by some crackpot old fool they knew, with the expectation of us to care for him. As we have long since disowned that branch of the family, and as any mention of my wife's sister upsets her, I have chosen your home at random to leave him at. I ask you understand that I mean nothing personal by it, and merely wish to get rid of him before my wife finds out. In a perfect world no one would have to deal with his kind._

_Pinned to the back is a letter with pertinent details. Certain portions have been omitted to protect our identities._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Vernon_

Wendell stared at the note for a moment, and could only think to himself that either he was being scammed, or this boy's uncle was a complete and utter prick. Personally he was leaning towards the latter.

He picked up the basket and looked at the boy, Harry, inside. He still slept, but it appeared fitful; his hands were clenched in small fists, and kept shifting around, not quite tossing and turning but close. Sighing, Wendell brought him inside. He had no idea what was going to happen to Harry, but he couldn't very well keep him on the lawn until they figured it out.

He set Harry down on the kitchen table and reached around the basket, grabbing the letter that this Vernon character had mentioned. As the man had mentioned, numerous things had been blacked out, far more than he had expected. Not just a name or two, but full sentences and even an entire paragraph. Most notably, the parents' cause of death.

"Well if that isn't suspicious I don't know what is." Wendell rubbed his chin, attempting to decipher what he could of the letter. Not much made sense, save for a single paragraph that was left untouched with necessary information.

"Let's see here, born at the end of July, probably last year… blood type… vaccinations… allergic to kumquats… not much else on medicals, he'll need a full checkup…" this was Wendell's Doctor Granger mode. He was actually a licensed physician, and fairly good at that. He had quit, finding himself unable to face death on a daily basis, but always kept up to date and renewed his license regularly, just in case.

Unable to discern anything else important from the letter, he instead turned back to Vernon's note. In university he had gone through a mystery novel phase, always trying to solve the mystery before the detective, and had gotten quite good at reading between lines.

Harry's aunt was upset when reminded of her sister. She had been alive before two days ago, so it wasn't grief. Therefore, it was dislike. Vernon apparently shared the contempt and passed it on to the child. He'd mentioned "his kind" in a derogatory way, so it was probably some form of discrimination, probably toward the father since the mother and the aunt were related. Harry looked European, though, so it couldn't have been racial. Few would discriminate against a child for having foreign parents, so that wasn't likely either. The only thing that Wendell could come up with was the father being a Traveller, which was almost as ridiculous as the foreigner idea, if more likely.

Whatever the reason, this Vernon character was clearly no good of a person. He had abandoned a child, his own family even if one he didn't care for, on the doorstep of a stranger, no mind for who they might be or what they might do. He cast a glance at his copy of _Inferno_, idly wondering if this qualified as betrayal of family.

Wendell was engrossed in his book, occasionally glancing up to make sure Harry was still asleep, when Monica came into the kitchen, Hermione in her arms.

"Hi Daddy!" Hermione exclaimed, a big smile on her face. Wendell snapped out of his fantasy of Vernon frozen in the ninth circle of hell and smiled back at his little girl.

"Good morning sweetness." He walked over and planted a big kiss on his daughter's cheek. She giggled and wiped it off, citing "daddy cooties." Monica, meanwhile, was looking at the basket, unable to see its contents.

"Wendell, what's in the basket?" She asked.

"A little boy," he answered cheekily, already used to the idea. Monica rolled her eyes, an action which Hermione mimicked, and moved over to look inside. The moment she did, she jumped back and shrieked. The sudden sharp noise awoke little Harry, who took in the unfamiliar surroundings and the strange woman standing over him, and proceeded to scream.

* * *

Once Harry had been calmed down, things proceeded in a sort of whirlwind. The police were notified of Harry's random appearance, but there were no reports of a missing one year old boy with black hair and emerald green eyes. An entire day passed of what the police called "standard operating procedure" but which seemed to Wendell to be a load of tosh. As far as he could tell if no one had reported missing Harry then obviously no one would respond to being asked "have you lost this child?"

Then came the child protection specialists, three men and a woman who stood in his kitchen over the boy and argued over the most convenient thing to do with him. What got to Wendell was how they seemed uninterested in what was _best_ for Harry himself. Having a small child of his own gave him a paternal instinct which had extended to Harry in the course of a day spent with him. And so, the moment the group of "specialists" came to the conclusion that Wool's Orphanage in London would be the perfect place Wendell stepped in.

"That won't be necessary gentlemen." The politeness in his words did not mask the distaste in his voice. "I believe I speak for my wife and I both when I say we'd be happy to watch after him until a more suitable foster family can be found." His formal, if hostile, tone easily won him sway with the social workers (whom he suspected didn't even catch the hostility in the first place).

Wendell had said it exactly how he meant it-they were going to keep him for the time being until actual foster parents could be found. What he had not expected, however, was for he and Monica (who had been drawn into the discussion after getting the children situated in Hermione's room) to be talked into registering _as_ actual foster parents. By the time it was all over, the couple was certain that only a few hours had passed, and yet almost the entire day had been eaten up. Seven PM had rolled around, and already it was time to put the children (the plural sent a shiver down Wendell's spine) to bed and have dinner. In other words, a busy day. And yet, when it finally came to an end and he sat in the living room, enjoying a small glass of wine and the nightly news (nine kinds of insanity, between the owls and the spontaneous meteor showers), he smiled slightly. All that had happened today, he decided, came out to be a good thing.


	2. A Clever Constrictor

In the nine years that passed since that long and fast day, very little actually changed at 21 Everett Drive. It was still an ordinary four bedroom house with a crisply cut front lawn and a well-maintained back garden. Venturing inside revealed very little change as well. The furniture was still good, after all, and they hardly had animals to tear them up. The bookshelves present in every room had increased in number, of course, and had become double-stacked over time, while the pictures hung on the walls and mantle had expanded to include pictures of the children growing up, as well as one or two of Owen, Monica's sister's son.

Only two rooms saw marked change. The first was, of course, Hermione's room, as she was no longer a two year old. Her tiny bed had been replaced with a much larger one and the bright pink-with-butterflies walls were now a muted purple. You could only tell this from the ceiling, though, as the walls were lined with nearly as many bookshelves as existed in the rest of the house, all just as overstuffed.

The second was what had once been a guest room. Here there was only one shelf of books, filled with fantasy and science fiction as opposed to the classical literature of Hermione's collection. A small football trophy sat cheerfully on a desk with a computer and a few stacks of comics. As a bedroom, there was of course a bed, soft and warm and oh so very comfortable. And beneath its covers lay a small, cozy lump, which was about to be quite rudely awakened.

"Harry!" The lump groaned. That voice could only come from one source. A sharp rapping at the door followed. "Harry! Get up, it's the field trip today!" The lump groaned again, and shifted. "Harry, I swear if you make me late, I'll make you regret it." With a sigh, the lump pushed up, and the covers fell away, revealing ten year old Harry James Granger. There wasn't an inch of him that doubted his sister's threat.

Ten minutes later, Harry was bounding down the stairs, fully dressed and groomed and ready for the day. Their parents were already gone, as was normal for a weekday, so Harry and Hermione were left to make breakfast for themselves. Hermione already had her normal toast and marmalade and had a strange expression that Harry recognized as her poker face. He sighed and opened the cupboard to find that, indeed, his cereal had been moved to a higher shelf just out of his reach.

"So what's this revenge for?"

"The sparkler incident." He could hear her smirk now.

"You realize that this is a horrible prank in comparison, yeah?" Harry jumped, trying to swipe the box down.

"And yet it's just as satisfying," she snickered, as Harry failed to knock it down yet again. He sighed again and went to grab a chair, cursing his shortness. He was easily smallest in their year at school, and not just because he was the youngest; most of the year below them were taller than him too. Harry had long ago decided that it was completely unfair for Hermione to get their father's genes while he didn't.

As it happened, Harry knew he was adopted. Not because his parents had told him or anything, but because any idiot who looked at their family tree could see it. In a long line of bushy brown and sleek blond, his hair was messy and blacker than night. Every family reunion saw brown eyes, blues, grays, ambers, and even some lavender. Not a single bit of green like his. Perfect vision as well, each and every one of them, save Harry, who wore contacts. And of course, in terms of height he ranked last amongst his family as well.

He didn't care, of course. Why would he? His parents loved him all the same, as did Hermione (who, true to form, had figured it out months before him). He was no less a Granger for having been born something else. He was a bit curious about his birth parents, of course, but more an intellectual one. He was perfectly happy with his family, thank you very much.

Harry wolfed down his cereal fairly quickly, and though she remained ladylike about it Hermione was eating faster than usual as well. They'd both been looking forward to this field trip to the zoo for weeks. Fortunately, Harry's year-long ban had ended the month before. It hadn't been a fair ban anyway. Honestly, how had he been to know you weren't allowed to ride the rhinos?

* * *

From the beginning Harry wasn't quite enjoying the zoo trip. It wasn't bad, of course, as they had added a few new animals since his last visit and it was amusing to see the elephants did, in fact, remember everything, as they shied away the moment one spotted him, but between the zoo's paranoia and Mr. Lucas' own "special precautions" he was really, _really_ limited. His little group of friends and co-conspirators had been separated from him almost immediately when they were put into groups, all under strict chaperoning. Harry himself was under explicit watch. If anyone noticed him up to anything funny, he had already been told he was out.

For most kids, this wouldn't be a problem. For Harry, it was a massive buzzkiller. Without his friends around to joke with, and lacking the ability to play pranks, there was literally nothing to do. Harry couldn't even learn that much as he and Hermione had both been to this same zoo a few times and not much had changed over the years.

In short, Harry was bored. This, as it happened, was never a good thing.

The Reptile House was a large, dark building in the middle of the zoo, kept cool and dimly lit for the benefit of the cold blooded animals. Its inhabitants mainly consisted of snakes and lizards, although there was also a crocodile that caught Harry's interest for a few minutes during feeding time. That was soon lost, however, when he found the boa constrictor.

At first glance it didn't seem very interesting. It was curled up, asleep and intent on ignoring everyone who passed by. But that was not a deterrent to another boy who was here with his parents. The best way that Harry could think to describe him was a pig in a wig; very overweight, his head a mop of smartly cut blond hair that nevertheless made him look ridiculous. As Harry passed by he was tapping on the glass to the boa's cage, ignoring the sign which quite clearly said not to do so. Harry stopped, uncertain of why he did so. Perhaps it was the absurdity that a boy that large could even exist, or maybe it was annoyance at the rude way he insisted on trying to wake the snake up from its nap. But for whatever reason, Harry found him interesting.

"Oi," he called out. The pig in a wig turned to face him, a glare on his pudgy face.

"What?"

"I think that snake's trying to sleep."

"So?" The tone in his voice had Harry plotting his humiliating demise instantly.

"So how would you like it if you were having a lie-in and someone started banging on your door?"

The boy just grunted. At that particular moment a man came up, and Harry understood _exactly_ how a boy as large as this could exist: genetics.

"Is this boy bothering you Dudley?" He stared Harry down with a clear expression of disapproval on his face.

"Uh-huh! I was just trying to look at the snake and he started lecturing me about leaving it alone!" Harry snorted, and Dudley's father shot him a glare.

"Is that so, boy?"

"Actually, sir," Harry replied, using the most respectful tone he could for the unpleasant man. "Your son was tapping on the glass, even though the sign says not to, to wake that snake up from its nap." The man's sneer didn't fade.

"My Dudders can do whatever he wants. It's his birthday after-" He was forced to cut himself off when Harry broke down into a fit of laughter.

"Dudders?" He gasped between laughs. "Are you serious?" Whether the man was serious or not, Harry wouldn't find out, because they were interrupted by one of the chaperones for the trip.

"Granger," he snapped. "What did we say about behaving yourself!" She turned to Dudders (Harry snorted again) and his father. "I hope he hasn't given you any trouble, sir."

"Not at all," the father replied, the most unpleasant smile in history on his face. "He was just bothering my son is all. We'll be heading over that way, so as to avoid it happening again." Harry could literally hear the evil in his voice, but stayed quiet. The chaperone glared down at Harry as they left.

"Young man, I don't know what you think you're doing. That you were let on this trip at all is a miracle. One more toe out of line and you'll be going to wait on the bus, understood?" Harry threw her a mock salute, which didn't help him at all, but was completely true to form for him. She shook her head and walked away in an attempt to watch over the other students.

Harry sighed, annoyed that he was now left with nothing to do, and turned around. He was surprised to find that the boa had awoken, and was now sitting straight up and staring at him. He stared back. It jerked its head in the direction Dudley had gone, and Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, I hate bullies too. Make everything less pleasant for the rest of us." Was it Harry's imagination, or did the snake just nod? He shook his head. Clearly he was going delusional. He leaned in a bit closer to read the placard. "Native to Brazil. Sounds nice." This time Harry was certain that his imagination wasn't running wild, because the snake was now using its tail to point and no trick of light could do that. "'Born in captivity...'" Ah, what the hell, might as well roll with it. "That's got to suck. Trapped behind glass your entire life." The boa definitely nodded again. Harry started to say something else, but was suddenly hit with what could only have been a small whale.

"Dad, come check out what the snake is doing!" Yep, small whale.

Before Harry could stand up and tell the boy named Dudders off, there was a splash and a scream, which was quickly followed by a chorus more. Harry rolled over to see what all the fuss was about, and his eyes widened with panic; the glass in front of the boa's cage was gone. Not broken, not moved, it had literally vanished. Dudley, who had been pressing against it when it did its disappearing act, was now in a small pool of water, and the snake was slithering out over his body. It quickly disappeared into the chaos that was quickly erupting, people panicking and running around as they were wont to do, but before it did Harry could have sworn he heard a hissing voice shouting over the din, shouting "Brazil here I come! Obrigado amigo!"


	3. The Orchid Bush

By the time the panic began wearing off Harry's… amigo had already vanished. Vaguely he wondered how the boa intended to get to Brazil, but he dismissed the thought immediately. Clearly he'd been hearing things, and that had just been a very clever and well trained snake making a bid for freedom.

"Harry!" The boy in question turn around, and found two of his three best friends, Maggy and Devon, running up to him. Maggy, being even smaller than Harry, was able to slip through the terrified mob, which had now stopped screaming and was demanding answers from a frantic zookeeper. "What on earth is going on?" Harry's pointed backwards at the now empty snake enclosure, where Dudley was still trying to push himself out.

"Glass disappeared, a snake escaped, and I swear I had nothing to do with it." Maggy snorted just as Devon arrived. "Where's Eric anyway?" Devon shrugged.

"No idea. We bumped into each other while we were looking for you, the entire place is going up in a riot and we figured where there's smoke-"

"There's Harry," Harry finished, grinning. The other two returned it. "I really didn't do it though. I was just having a pleasant conversation with the snake-don't ask-and that tub of lard over there shoved me out of the way. Next thing I know everyone's screaming and there's a boa constrictor on the loose."

Before they could speak anymore the chaperone from earlier pushed her way over to them and grabbed Harry by the arm, dragging him away to a yelp.

"OW! What the hell, woman?"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me young man. I warned you to toe the line, and what do you? You let a snake loose."

"But I didn't-"

"You've done some reckless and irresponsible things in the past but this is absolutely unbelievable! That thing could have attacked someone!"

"It didn't-"

"Unfortunately I can't give you detention for life on a field trip, but when your parents hear about this-"

"What? NO!"

"Any punishment they'll give is better than you deserve. Lord knows they probably don't even use a cane."

Well no, but Dad's disappointed voice was probably ten times worse.

* * *

"Are you serious?"

Harry didn't answer. His father was currently giving him the most supremely disapproving look in the history of forever while he sat in an armchair in their living room.

"You let a snake loose. A dangerous snake. In the middle of a crowded zoo." Still Harry didn't talk. It was clearly not a question, but a statement. An incorrect statement, but a statement nonetheless. "I shouldn't be surprised. I really, really shouldn't. Not after the rhino incident. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Only that I didn't do it." It was probably a bad idea to get cheeky when his father was disappointed.

"Oh? And I'm supposed to believe that because?"

"How exactly am I supposed to make three inch plate glass disappear?"

"You lost the 'that's not possible' excuse when you turned your teacher's hair blue. I don't know how you did it. I don't care how you did it. Mrs. Price said that you were the only one near the snake when it happened, and your record is against you." Harry said nothing. "You're grounded. Two months. You come out of your room for school, football practice and meals only. Am I understood?"

"What about the loo?"

"Nice, Harry. Good response, really, I'm quite proud of that one." It needs not be said that sarcasm was dripping from Dad's voice. "Room. Now."

Harry stood and followed instructions, silently fuming all the way. Was it really so hard to believe that he was innocent? Yes, he'd done some stupid things in the past, and he'd cheerfully gone along with his punishment on realizing how very stupid it was. But he'd never done anything that could hurt anyone, and never would. True, much longer bonding with the snake and he might have staged a daring rescue but to unleash it on a crowd was far beyond him.

He climbed the stairs to find Hermione, clearly attempting to eavesdrop even though Dad's "I'm very disappointed in you" voice was far too low to hear from there.

"So?" She asked.

"Two months."

"You deserve it you know," Hermione replied, her eyes expressing the same disapproving sentiment that Dad had. "Really Harry, on your top ten list of stupid moves this was easily number one."

"So you don't believe me."

"Why should I?"

"Because I said I didn't." This answer seemed to surprise Hermione, so he went on. "When have I ever failed to admit that I've screwed up horribly?" Hermione didn't have an answer. Harry just pushed past her and went for his room, throwing the door shut behind him and falling onto his bed with a sigh.

Dad had been right about exactly one thing; all signs did point to him. It would hardly be the first unexplainable thing that had happened around him, although Hermione was a bit of a weirdness magnet as well. And he wasn't exactly a perfect angel to be taken at his word, either. Still, it hurt that they all thought him capable of something like that.

* * *

It was easily Harry's longest, and worst, punishment yet. Shortly after coming to his room Mum had come in, instilling a feeling of guilt that wasn't even deserved with only her eyes, and dragged his bookshelf away, and then his computer. It seemed he was to be left completely to his thoughts for the duration of his two-month grounding. Harry took it without complaint, knowing that any protests would go ignored, and spent most of his time staring at the ceiling.

Unfortunately, his time outside his temporary cell wasn't the most pleasant either. At school he had gone from being a fairly well-liked boy to a pariah; everyone except Eric, Devon and Maggy blamed him for cutting short their one field trip of the year. They alone believed his innocence and stuck by him, but it was still difficult taking the cold shoulders and glares. Football practice, while liberating, just wasn't much fun anymore. Harry wasn't sure why that was, because it had begun losing its luster a while before the Incident of the Vanishing Glass, as it was being called around school.

Meals were, surprisingly, the best time. By the time a week had passed his parents seemed to have forgiven him, taking his submission as admitting he'd been wrong, and were talking to him as normal. Hermione remained largely quiet at first as well, apparently lost in thought, which was very unusual for her and only seemed to happen then. At school she was her normal bossy, know-it-all self. Harry wasn't quite certain of why at first, but it readily became apparent when, one night after he was sent back off to his room without pudding, there was a knock on his door. When he opened it nobody was there, but plate of cake sat on the floor with a plastic fork. He gave a small smile. Hermione, at least, seemed to think he was innocent.

A ping shook Harry out of his boredom. School had let out for the summer two weeks before, but there were still three days left on his grounding. He just sat there at first, certain solitary confinement had begun to make him delusional again (his league's official football season had ended a while ago as well, keeping him trapped in his home if not just his room). Then there was another ping, from the direction of the window. He stepped over to it, curious, and pulled it open, just in time to get hit in the forehead with a small stone.

"Ouch," Harry hissed.

"Sorry mate," came a whispered voice from below. He looked down, and there were Eric, Devon and Maggy standing in the back garden, the second of whom looked rather sheepish. He grinned down at them.

"What are you guys doing here?" He kept his voice low; while his parents were at work, Hermione was in the sitting room, and despite the occasional offering of sweets at his door there was nothing that would get her to let him off of a direct order from Mum and Dad.

"Just thought we'd pop in for a visit," Eric smirked at him. "Say hi, maybe have some tea, possibly a biscuit if you've got any." Harry rolled his eyes and stepped away. It was hardly the first time he'd been grounded, or any of them for that matter, and so they'd all had a great deal of practise getting into each other's rooms from the outside. Harry's was easiest, as the windows had both upper and lower edges, making scaling easy for the experienced climber. Within seconds Maggy was in, followed by the two boys.

The next hour was one of the best Harry had had in weeks. Much of his time alone had been spent wondering what his little band of misfits had been up to, and the three had wasted no time in regaling him with stories of adventure and pranking, one of which they'd just come from. It became an effort not to laugh too loudly.

"So it's all gone sideways at this point," Maggy was saying. "Dev's arm is elbow deep in pudding, the old woman is under the net, I've completely forgotten what I'm supposed to do with the shoe, and Eric is hanging upside down in a tree-" She would have continued, but the doorbell rang at that point; a good thing too, as Harry's side was virtually tearing open from repressed laughter and the others, despite having just come from this mishap, were faring just as poorly. Now that they couldn't rely on Hermione being engrossed in whatever book she was reading this week, Maggy fell silent, and Harry crept closer to the hallway, listening as the front door opened and waiting patiently until it closed.

Seconds passed, then minutes. Harry furrowed his brow. They were meant to turn people away as soon as possible when Mum and Dad weren't home, whether they were salesmen or visitors. When the door finally did close, he didn't hear Hermione's footsteps going back to the sitting room; they were headed straight up the stairs. His eyes went wide, and he spun, sending his friends their signal for "HIDE, YOU FOOLS!" They stared for a moment, and then jumped away in a panicked frenzy, Eric sliding into the closet, Devon diving beneath the bed and Maggy tucking and rolling beneath the computer desk. Harry took two long strides and then leapt onto the bed, earning a muffled grunt from Devon. He assumed his normal position, lying straight out and staring at the ceiling, just in time for Hermione's knocking at the door.

"Harry?"

"Yeah Hermione?" She opened the door slightly and poked her head in.

"You need to come to the back garden." Harry's eyebrows brushed his hairline.

"… I'm grounded."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'm grounded, and you're telling me to leave me room."

"Yes, I realize that," Hermione replied, her tone annoyed and impatient. "But it seems rather important and I'm sure Mum and Dad will understand." Harry shrugged.

"If you're telling me to do this it has to be big. I'll be down in a second."

Hermione nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Obviously she thought he was going to change or something, having been in these clothes for three days. It actually didn't sound like a bad idea, now that he thought of it. He yanked off his shirt as his friends poked out of their hiding spots.

"Alright mates," he whispered while pulling on a clean shirt. "I'm going to see what's so important that Hermione wants to break a punishment for it. You lot watch from the window, you know how well sound carries from there." Off went his jeans, and he, in spectacular ten year old boy fashion, completely failed to notice his one female friend's blush as he put on a fresh pair.

Quick as a flash Harry was out the door and bolting down the stairs towards his first taste of freedom in quite some time. He bounded through the open back door, taking in a large whiff of fresh air, but stopped when he saw that he and Hermione were not alone. There was a woman there, a rather severe looking one in a black dress completely unsuited to the weather, and a hat that wouldn't be out of place on a witch. The woman turned to face him and nodded.

"And you must be the young Mister Granger, I presume."

"Er… yeah?" He threw Hermione her own "What's going on" look, to which she responded with a shrug.

"Ms. McGonagall insisted she speak to both of us. I couldn't let her in the house, because Mum and Dad aren't here, so here we are." Harry nodded, though he didn't quite understand the urgency.

"I do apologize, Mister and Miss Granger," McGonagall said. "Ordinarily I wouldn't have a problem, but I cannot make these visits during the evening and if, as Miss Granger says, your parents are going to be gone during the day until August, there will be problems with enrollment."

"Enrollment?" Harry and Hermione both stared at McGonagall.

With a flourish that seemed rather unnecessary, she reached into the pocket of her dress-no, robes, Harry could see clearly now-and withdrew two letters of thick parchment, one addressed to Mister H. Granger, the other to Miss H. Granger. She held them out, allowing Harry and Hermione to each take theirs. The seal on the back, which Harry admired for a moment before tearing it open, was an intricate design consisting of a lion, snake, badger and eagle arranged in a shield with an H on the center. The letter itself was written on thick parchment, and quite surprising.

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**

**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

**Dear Mr. Granger,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you should accept,**

**a representative of Hogwarts will accompany you on the date of your**

**choosing to acquire your supplies.**

**Term begins on 1 September. We await your response by no**

**later than 31 July.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress**

Harry stared at the letter. Then looked back up at McGonagall. Then back at the letter. Then at McGonagall again. He didn't say anything, and neither did Hermione, who he was certain was in as much of a stupor as he was.

"You have quite a lovely garden," McGonagall said, finally breaking the silence.

"… yeah," Hermione replied. It was, actually. A large plot of land against the house was devoted to Mum's flowers, and she took quite a bit of pride in them. Her only failure to date were a number of orchids which sat dead in a corner, her way of reminding herself that plants were fragile and could easily die out.

About a minute more of quiet passed before Harry finally broke the tension.

"So… is this a joke or something?" McGonagall shook her head

"No, Mister Granger, it is not. I realize that it must be a shock, being told that magic is real-"

"Magic isn't real!" Hermione finally found her voice properly. "Everyone knows that, it's fiction, fantasy!"

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that it is not."

"Then why is there no evidence of magic? There's a rational explanation for everything. If we're so magical, then why haven't we done anything that can't be logically explained?"

"Er, Hermione?" Harry tentatively pushed in, wary of Hermione when she was on a rant. "We have." Hermione stopped and stared at him, realization slowly dawning. If this McGonagall woman really was serious, it would explain quite a bit. The hair colour incident, the time he'd ended up on the school roof, even the one time a pair of bullies messing with Hermione had ended up with their shoelaces tied together while Harry and co. were nowhere to be found. Mcgonagall smiled slightly, as though being struck with nostalgia.

"And the penny drops," she murmured, barely loud enough for Harry to hear. Hermione started, and the look of indignation returned to her face.

"No, all of that has to have a reasonable explanation. I demand proof that magic is real if we're going to continue with this charade." McGonagall's smile grew a bit wider, something Harry was quite certain was rare.

"Very well then, Miss Granger." She reached back into the pockets of her robes and retrieved a long, smooth stick. She flicked it behind Hermione. "_Restichidea._" She then returned the stick to her pocket. "When you've made your decision just send a letter through your mail addressed to Hogwarts with the most convenient date to go for school supplies." And then she disappeared, a crack of displaced air following. Hermione stared blankly, her mind coming to terms with exactly what had just happened, but Harry, open-minded that he was, had already been sold a few seconds before, due largely to the fact that where there had previously been a handful of dead flowers, there was now a very much alive and vibrant bush of orchids.


	4. Most Curious

"I'm telling you Dad, she created that bush! With magic!"

"Harry, you're three days away from freedom and a week from your birthday. Do you really want to be pulling a prank on me right now?" Dad replied, his eyes focused on the potatoes he was peeling.

"But Dad, she vanished in mid-air!" Hermione cut in.

"Not you too, Hermione."

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Enough, both of you. Harry, go back up to your room. I'll call you down for dinner in a bit."

Harry went for the stairs, annoyed. After McGonagall's sudden departure, Hermione hadn't taken left his side, gabbing on and on about the possible ramifications of discovering that magic was real. He'd spotted his friends leaving, climbing out the window as deftly as they'd come in, and dearly hoped that they would keep mum about what they'd seen; he agreed with Hermione's conclusion that, since they'd never heard about magic being real before, it was obviously meant to be a secret. It had actually become quite an exciting thing for both of them to think about: a fantastic adventure, learning to use magical powers, attending a real live wizarding school, slaying dragons and rescuing princesses-Hermione had promptly swatted Harry in the back of the head on that comment. But then their parents got home.

Not only did they not believe their story about Professor McGonagall, the Scottish witch from the wizard's school, but they had actually scolded the pair of them for, apparently, leaving the house without permission, acquiring a bush that somehow sprouted orchids, digging up Mum's garden, and, in Harry's case, breaking his grounding. Thankfully they hadn't extended his punishment, but were instead giving them both extra chores. Still, it left a predicament; Harry and Hermione knew that magic was real. They had seen it with their own eyes. Harry was the whimsical sort who could easily believe in magic, while Hermione was the logical sort who couldn't deny what she'd seen with her own eyes. Magic had been done in front of them, so magic existed. But their parents didn't believe in magic. And it was highly unlikely, Harry thought as he flopped onto his bed, that their letter back to Hogwarts would be accepted if their parents didn't give an okay.

…

"That's it!" Harry shouted, jumping out of bed. Giddy with excitement, he sat staring at the door. Eventually, as he predicted, Hermione barged straight in without even knocking, falling back to sit next to him.

"So what's it then?" She asked.

"Aw, you heard me?"

"The entire neighborhood heard you Harry."

"Damn," Harry pouted. "I was going to toy with you for a bit." Hermione just threw him a cheeky grin. "Okay, remember what McGonagall said about sending our replies through the mail?"

"Yeah," Hermione said slowly. "But we talked about this, remember? There's no way we can go without Mum and Dad's permission."

"But who says we need their permission to accept?" Hermione just stared at him. "You know, for the cleverest girl in school you can be a bit slow sometimes." She grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Harry laughed. "The letter said that when we responded we should give a day that someone can come and take us shopping for supplies." Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what her brother was talking about.

"So we find a day Mum and Dad are both going to be home in August…"

"And we have someone come then, so they can show them magic, and we can go to Hogwarts!"

"Harry, this is the first time I've ever said this to you, and probably the last. You're a genius!"

* * *

The date was 5th August. The time was 10:13 AM. And in the Granger's sitting room, in front of the entire assembled Granger family, a woman turned into a cat.

"… well… how about that?" Dad said, shell-shocked. Professor McGonagall transformed back into a human then, picked up a cup of tea, and sat down, folding her legs in a manner that, in Harry's opinion, was far too dignified.

"So I take it I've convinced you then," she said dryly. Dad nodded.

"It's kind of hard for me to doubt you when you just turned into a cat," he said. "I'm not familiar with any trick that would make me think that."

"Well," Harry said with his snootiest voice. "I believe that you owe certain someones an apology, wouldn't you agree Father?" Hermione snorted and immediately covered her mouth, mortified. Dad just leveled a glance at him, his lips clearly fighting a grin.

"I'm sorry I doubted you kids, although you really can't blame me."

"So can we go to Hogwarts?"

"No." Instantly both Harry and Hermione's faces fell, and McGonagall frowned.

"Mr. Granger, I think it would be prudent if we discussed whatever misgivings you may have before you come to a decision. After all if your children do not learn to control their gift properly-"

"I apologise, madam, I should have been clearer before," Dad said. "I believe that you are a witch, and I believe that you did in fact turn my wife's dead flowers into a bush that sprouts orchids. But that doesn't mean that my children have any such gift-"

"I assure you Mr. Granger, all magical children have their names inscribed on the Hogwarts registrar at birth, and Harry and Hermione are most certainly there."

"Which I only have your word for," Dad countered. "You'll forgive any stereotyping, but for all I know you're going to bring them to a cottage made of gingerbread to have them for dinner. I won't be entrusting my children to a stranger with weird powers because she claims they do as well."

"What about the time I got on the roof," Harry butted in. "Or the hair thing?"

"Or all those times you told me about when my books got into my crib, when I was little?" Hermione added. He still didn't look convinced.

"Dad," Harry said quietly. "What about the snake?" As one four faces swiveled slightly to stare at him, and he blushed. "Just before the glass disappeared, this overweight bully shoved me to the ground and I got pi-er, mad. I mean, it, er, makes sense, doesn't it?" McGonagall nodded.

"Often times when a child's magic reacts it is because of strong emotions. The stronger it is, the more powerful the reaction."

"Well," Dad sighed. "I admit it's likely." Hermione and Harry leaned forward anxiously.

"I'll make you a deal, Mr. Granger," McGonagall said, with the air of someone who's reached this point before. "We'll go shopping today. There is an entire hidden alley in London that we need to visit to acquire the young Grangers' supplies. If, by the end of the day, you aren't convinced, then I will leave you be." Dad considered it for a moment, rubbing the stubble on his chin that he had proudly claimed just that morning was the beard he was going to grow.

"All right, I suppose it wouldn't hurt." The Granger siblings looked at each other with pure glee in their eyes. "Monica?" Mum looked anxiously at him for a moment.

"I suppose if we don't at least give it a chance Harry will never let us forget it." Harry's grin was all the answer she needed.

* * *

Two hours later, the Granger family arrived at the area McGonagall had directed them to before vanishing with a crack yet again and sending the parents jumping. At first Mum and Dad had walked right by the Leaky Cauldron, where they'd been told to meet the professor at, and when Hermione pointed it out to them were convinced that it was a vacant lot. In fact they remained convinced, and argued excessively until Harry finally just threw his hands up and walked across the threshold.

His apparent sudden vanishing had settled the argument quickly, and the rest of the family quickly followed him inside, where he was already chatting with McGonagall at a table.

"I'm afraid, Mister Granger, that Apparition is only taught in your sixth year." Harry groaned. "Oh, don't fret Granger, it would be useless for you to know anyway. You won't be allowed to use magic outside of school, and it's quite impossible inside." Harry just groaned louder.

"What about the whole turning into a cat thing? Can you teach me to do that? Except, you know, a tiger or something like that?"

"Not even taught at Hogwarts." McGonagall had to fight off a smirk as Harry's head hit the table, something that Hermione didn't even bother with.

"Poor Harry. You'll just have to stick to being the animal you are, won't you?" She patted him on the back teasingly, and he growled in a manner not unlike a wolf.

"Yes, well, I will say that if either of you proves talented enough in my class-Transfiguration-I may offer to teach you some time after you turn seventeen." Harry perked up, and Hermione's attention was caught as well. "Of course, it is a very difficult subject; no one has impressed me quite enough in fifteen years or so." That was precisely the wrong thing to say to Hermione, Harry thought. The twinkle in her eye meant only one thing: _challenge accepted._

"Well," Dad said, thankfully interrupting before Hermione could get McGonagall started on other difficult line of thought. "I believe, Professor, that we should get going if you intend to prove me wrong. Lord knows I hope you do, after you've gotten my children so looking forward to this.

"Indeed, Mr. Granger," McGonagall nodded. "Follow me." She turned and walked swiftly to the back door of the pub, and the Grangers followed suit. Harry steeled himself for the wonderful sight he was undoubtedly about to see, and stepped out the door to reveal… an alley. An alley with a brick wall and some trash bins, and nothing else. McGonagall grinned, something Harry was certain he would never be seeing again, and pulled out the stick she'd used on the orchids.

"Pay careful attention children. Start at this bin here, go three bricks up, two to the left, and…" she tapped the specified brick. "Welcome to Diagon Alley." The Grangers watched in awe as the bricks moved from the point of McGonagall's touch, reforming themselves into an archway, the other side of which held the single most marvelous street Harry had seen in his life.

A long, narrow cobbled street stretched as far as the eye could see, loaded to the brim with shops. As McGonagall led them down it Harry instantly wished he had a dozen extra eyes. There was one store selling cauldrons in copper and bronze and gold, and another that advertised owls ("Our method of mail delivery," McGonagall explained). Quality Quidditch Supplies had a sign outside declaring the Nimbus 2000 the most cutting of edge brooms, while a little café called Molly's was apparently now selling Back To School Biscuits, which apparently helped you remember things from school you'd forgotten over the summer with every bite.

Altogether Harry was thankful that he wasn't deciding where to go first, because he honestly had no clue. He was even more thankful that Hermione wasn't making the decision, because if that were the case they'd never leave Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore he caught her eyeing hungrily at one point.

Instead their first stop was Madam Malkins, where they were fitted for the robes and hat that were part of the uniform, even though, as McGonagall mumbled under her breath, nobody but she and the Headmaster ever wore the hats. When they were done being fitted and had their robes, Madam Malkin rang up their total in, not pounds, but Galleons and Sickles. Before either Mum or Dad could say a word McGonagall told her to put it on the Hogwarts tab and lead them out.

"The exchange rate between pounds and Galleons is outrageous, even ignoring the rather large fee the goblins charge for exchanging," she said, ignoring Mum's mouthing "goblins" behind her. "We keep an open tab with all of the necessary stores and add an additional fee to the Muggleborns' tuition to simplify things."

They next went to the cauldron store that Harry had seen earlier and purchased two pewter cauldrons, followed by the apothecary where they got a basic starter kit and a lecture on wizard currency (29 bronze knuts to the silver sickle, and 17 sickles to a gold galleon) courtesy of Hermione's asking. After that came the bookstore, where Hermione had to be dragged away from the advanced section by McGonagall after being assured that not only did Hogwarts have the largest library in the world, but that the closest it had to an equal "is in the tower I highly suspect you'll be living in for the next seven years." She insisted on remaining and flipping through some of the texts, though, leaving Harry and Dad to wander a bit near Flourish and Blotts.

It seemed inevitable, in hindsight, that they would end up in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Harry not only fell in love with the very concept of flying on a broom, but more importantly Quidditch, which turned out to be a sport taking football and rugby, putting it fifty feet in the air at sixty kilometers an hour, and including two cannonballs that flew around trying to kill everyone. Dad seemed almost as enraptured as Harry by the television screen playing looped, slow motion footage of the previous year's World Cup Final, although he looked slightly uncomfortable when told by a clerk that it wasn't a television, but a photograph.

Sadly for Harry, he too had to be pulled away from his new favorite store by McGonagall, who had to pull out a sheet of parchment with the supply list, which explicitly stated that first years weren't allowed brooms. Though Harry pouted at first, he then cottoned on to the line directly above the one about brooms.

"Can I have an owl?"

Much cajoling on the parts of both Harry and Hermione later, not to mention McGonagall's endorsement of owls as fine, self-sustaining pets, they were both walking out of Eeylops Owl Emporium, a beautiful snowy owl hanging in a cage from Hermione's hand that they had been quite firmly told that they were to share. And all that left was their wands, the most important part.

"We'll be going to Ollivander's for wands," McGonagall said. "He's supplied wands for almost every wizard in Britain." She paused. "And remembers them all as well."

The last bit was left fairly cryptic, and she hurried along the Alley, the Grangers trailing behind her.

Ollivander's was an old looking building with peeling letters, a sign proudly declaring that the store had been opened since 382 B.C. and a single wand on a pillow in the display. McGonagall ushered them in quickly, crowding the rather small interior which was piled with boxes upon boxes upon boxes of wands, all neatly shelved and somehow still dilapidated . The storefront was empty, but a small door lead into the back where even more boxes upon boxes upon boxes appeared, going down massive rows of cases.

"Hello." Three shrieks, a startled jump and a "Hello, Garrick" happened all at once. Harry whirled around to find an old man with the creepiest silver eyes in existence staring right at them.

"Minerva, wonderful to see you," he said to McGonagall. "Fir and dragon heartstring, 9 ½ inches, stiff. Amazing Transfiguration wand."

"As you remind me thirty times every summer, Garrick," she sighed. "I've got two new Muggleborn students here for you. Mister and Miss Granger, this is Garrick Ollivander."

"Ah…" Ollivander took notice of Harry and Hermione then, and leaned forward, peering closely at them. "I do enjoy Muggleborns. Wizardborn children tend to be too similar to their parents, too easy. Muggleborns are a challenge. Alright, Miss Granger, step onto the stool here and we'll begin." And begin he did, going off into a speech about wands and a bit of wandlore. He of course found a rapt student in Hermione, who barely paid attention to the measuring tape winding around her body on its own.

It took only ten tries to find Hermione's wand, something Ollivander seemed almost disappointed about. It appeared he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt more than actually finding a match. It didn't matter much to Hermione, though, who clutched her 10 ¾ inch vine and dragon heartstring wand to her body like it was her child. Mum and Dad were just staring at her; she had made sparks come out of the wand. She had done magic. _Magic._ Harry had already known it was going to happen, being far less skeptical of the matter, while McGonagall had a smug look on her face, though she tried to hide it. And then it was Harry's turn.

"Well, I would normally use this time to fill you in on wandlore," Ollivander said while the magical tape measure took stock of the distance between Harry's eyes. "But you've already heard the full speech. A pity, it's great for distracting students while I try to pick out wands." He threw Harry a sly wink, and Harry grinned. "Fortunately I'm fairly good at stalling anyway, as you'll figure out in about three seconds." And sure enough, three seconds later the measure zipped closed and flew to Ollivander's free hand, the other one holding a wand. Harry grinned again.

He tried the first wand Ollivander handed him. After a single swish the old man yanked it back, as he had done with Hermione. The next one Harry barely touched before it was also pulled from his hand. The next one was largely the same, and the one after that, while it felt okay was also confiscated.

"Oh, I've got a good feeling about you Mister Granger," Ollivander said, a wicked grin on his face as he carried a stack of wand boxes back into his stocks and came out with another. "You're going to be a tricky one."

And indeed, Harry was. They were in the wand store for almost an hour going from there, trying wand after wand, each failure making Ollivander's face go a little wider. Just when Harry thought the wandmaker's face was going to split apart, Ollivander stopped, and the smile melted away.

"… I wonder…" Before anyone could ask what, exactly, Ollivander wondered, he bolted into the back as he had several times already. This time, however, he came back with only one wand, unboxed.

"Holly and phoenix feather, 11 inches. Nice and supple. Give it a try, Mister Granger." Harry took the wand from Ollivander's hand, and suddenly warmth ran through his body like hot chocolate on a winter day. Feeling more sure of himself than he had in the last hundred or so attempts, he gave the wand a flick, and out showered a wave of red and green sparks. Mum and Dad gave a polite amount of applause while Hermione just groaned out a "finally," but Ollivander looked… odd. Not disappointed as he had when Hermione had found her wand, just puzzled, in a way.

"Curious, that is. Most curious," he said.

"What is, sir?" Harry asked.

"Phoenixes are rare creatures, Mister Granger. As such most of the phoenix feathers I have were donated from the same small pool, around twenty or so. But the feather in your wand… that phoenix gave but one other feather. That wand did great things, Mister Granger, great things indeed." Now Harry was curious.

"Who was it?"

"Ah, I will not burden you with his name." Ollivander had a small, sad smile on his face. Harry pouted. "I'll be expecting great things from you, Mister Granger, great things indeed."


	5. An Overdue Conversation

Three people sat on Harry's floor around his bed. Three people he had known for years, and who were quite easily his best friends in the world. Maggy Jones. Eric Marson. And Devon Thornby. The four of them had scarcely been apart since the age of seven-six in Maggy's case, as she was a year younger than the others. And now Harry had to explain that he was leaving them.

"So I'm guessing you got us here because of that woman from a few weeks ago, right?" Eric asked. Harry nodded. Even with Harry's birthday party the week before, he hadn't had a chance to be alone with them since the Professor McGonagall had first visited; Hermione had bound herself to his side, only leaving him alone when he was in his room or the bathroom, and he didn't want anyone knowing what his friends knew. For as clever of troublemakers as Harry and his gang were, they were awful at reliably getting away when it was most necessary, _especially_ from Hermione. But now, a day after their trip to Diagon Alley, she was holed away in her own bedroom, staring at every page of every book and committing the words to memory as though she were being given the year-end exams the tomorrow.

"We didn't tell anyone." Devon leaned back against the wall, staring directly at Harry. "Not even our parents. We agreed we needed to talk to you first, but Hermione was always around and you never brought it up…"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "So… here's the deal guys. You saw what Professor McGonagall did."

"McGonagall?"

"Professor?"

"Yeah. She's a witch. Like, magical. Real magic."

"We figured that out for ourselves," Devon tossed back wryly. "We're more interested in what she was doing here, and why you just called her a professor.

"She came here with an invitation. For… for me and Hermione." Silence. "We… we have magic too."

"You're joking!" This was Eric.

"Shush!" Harry looked at the wall he shared with Hermione, but it seemed that she was wholly absorbed in her new texts. "I'm not joking. We have magic, and McGonagall was here inviting us to this school." Devon narrowed his eyes.

"Seriously Harry, quit having us on. We agreed after the laughing gas incident that we weren't going to prank each other."

"I'm not…" Harry threw up his hands in exasperation, and reached for his drawer, pulling out his wand. Though he wouldn't be allowed to do it once he had attended classes, nothing was keeping him from casting spells now; he and Hermione had already tried some of the easier ones out of the book. He pointed it at Eric, whose shirt sleeve had a large tear in it, and performed a single flick.

"_Reparo."_ The end of the wand glowed, and the tear repaired itself, threads regenerating to become whole. Eric shrieked and leapt backwards, pulling at his sleeve as though to uncover the trick. The wand dropped to Harry's bed and he sat down on the edge, staring at his friends and awaiting their reactions.

"… wicked," Eric breathed, finally settled down.

"Yeah!" Maggy exclaimed. "You're gonna learn to do more stuff like that?"

"Mhmm," Harry nodded, just a little bit proud and a little bit guilty about being proud. "My books say that that was a really easy one, the more complicated stuff you have to be properly taught."

"So… you're going to this school then?" Devon asked. Harry nodded. "Well, sucks that we won't be in secondary school together but at least we'll be able to hang out afterwards, and you can show us some magic…" He trailed off at Harry's dejected look.

"About that… Hogwarts is a boarding school… in Scotland." All three of them went off at once, and Harry had to grab his wand again. "_Crepitia!"_ A sharp crack came from Harry's wand, silencing them all. Hermione banged on the wall, and Harry froze, but nothing appeared to come of it. "Look, guys, if there was something closer I would go there instead, but there isn't, and… and I can't let this go by."

"… and we can't come with you, can we?" Eric asked after a pause.

"No, Eric." Harry shook his head. "Maggy might, next year, but you and Dev would have gotten your letters and visit in July. You're apparently born with it." A sniffling caught Harry's attention, and he looked at Maggy, who was crying-though whether it was real or fake, Harry couldn't quite tell, as her hair covered her eyes.

"Why tell us?" The even voice confirmed for Harry that it was real. When she was faking it she tended to go for more blubbering. "Why not just, I don't know, have someone erase our memories or something." She looked up, and Harry could see the red in her eyes.

"I thought," he said quietly. "You deserved to know. It's the rules, right? No secrets?"

"Yeah," Devon said. "No secrets." He fell back against the floor, and the rest of them followed suit, Harry dropping from his perch so that they formed a semi-circle around the bed, lying there in silence.

"You'll write us, won't you?" Devon asked. Harry smiled a little.

"Of course. Although if any of your parents ask, my school is too remote to use the post and that's why I have an owl playing carrier pigeon." Eric snorted.

"You've got an owl mate?"

"Yep," Harry said. "Me and Hermione. Her name's Hedwig." All three of them tilted their heads to give him a funny look, and Harry put his hands up. "Mione named her after some witch from our history textbook. Personally I was pushing for Deathwing the Destructor." They all laughed a bit at that, but fell silent again until Maggy finally spoke again.

"When can you come back?" There was a little hiccough in her voice, but Harry knew that now it was only crocodile tears.

"I'll be back for Christmas, and Easter. And every summer, too."

"… good."

**That felt way too short, but I needed to write this scene. We'll just call it a bottle episode. **


	6. Four Gingers and a Troll

King's Cross was a perfectly ordinary train station that once a year became quite unordinary. The guards and conductors noticed this, of course, as it was quite impossible to miss such a pattern. Every year on the first of September, like clockwork, a large proportion of families came through, many with caged owls, most dressed in the strangest clothes you could imagine, and all with heavy, old fashioned trunks.

There were other days that these sorts came through, of course. But all kinds of people came through train stations all the time; bums, foreigners, and blokes in robes with pet birds. The unusual thing about 1 September was the sheer number of them; a few hundred families, all passing through at one point in the day or another. The only time quite nearly so many came through the station was near the beginning of summer, but even then the numbers didn't even compare. And the stranger part was that these families never, even once, boarded a train. Some of the older, more savvy workers at the station kept a careful eye out every year, and every year saw none of these odd people more than once.

This curious oddity, which none of them paid much mind to once it was finished for reasons even they could not fathom, was due in large part to the fact that the Hogwarts Express left from Platform 9 ¾ at 11 AM on that particular day, playing host to nearly every magical child in the British Isles.

Platform 9 ¾, which as any Muggle who's been to the station knows does not exist, could only be accessed by running through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. And it was this fact that had Hermione Granger and her mother nervous beyond recognition as the collected Granger family stared at it uncomfortably, accompanied by one of the tell-tale owls that looked, for her part, indifferent to the whole thing.

"So… Harry… you're certain that Professor McGonagall said to run through it?" Mum asked hopefully, as though the fourth time would yield a different answer.

"Yes, Mum," Harry answered, exasperated. "'Run straight through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, don't stop, and close your eyes if you feel too frightened to do it.' We were all there when she said it." Really, he didn't see what the big deal was. After Diagon Alley you'd have thought his family would have a little bit of faith. Dad, at least, was a little more adventurous about it, if only just.

"Perhaps," he mused. "If you were to just walk up and put a hand through, just to test it."

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. "Hermione asked McGonagall that, remember? You have to at least be walking really quickly. Otherwise a Muggle could just lean against it and fall through. We're gonna be going blind." They continued to eye it nervously, though, and Harry just rolled his eyes. "Whenever you guys are done being chickens, I'll be checking out the platform. Tally ho!" He cocked a grin and took off running. His mother tried to shout after him, but she was cut off almost immediately as Harry passed through and onto the misty, magical, fantastic Platform where a scarlet five-car steam engine waited. Harry gaped in awe.

"… wicked." He tossed a glance over his shoulder, and could quite clearly see the rest of the station behind him, including his family who… _oh crap, Mum looks angry._

In every animal there is an instinctive fight or flight response to imminent danger. Faced with his mother when angry, Harry went with flight every time. He vanished into the crowd, blending in with the mass of wizards and witches that surrounded him.

It was a surreal experience, to tune in and out of so many conversations at once. Some boys talking about a Quidditch game they'd seen that summer; older girls here and there swapping cosmetics charms; more than a few couples snogging, all of whom Harry avoided like the plague, still being young enough to be disgusted by such things. Families wishing their children good luck and younger siblings begging to be allowed to go too. And there was one kid with a tarantula, but Harry couldn't stop long enough to investigate more closely.

Harry moved as quickly and deftly as possible, intent on staying away from Mum just long enough for her to cool off. Years of practice navigating his particular brand of chaos in school with his friends made this easy for him, which was why it was surprising when a body came out of nowhere and he collided with it. He stumbled backwards and looked up into the face of a rather snooty looking older boy with dark hair and a face that had to be at least part troll. He sneered down at Harry.

"Watch where you're walking, filth. Or are you too stupid to even do that?"

"I'm sorry, I absolutely didn't mean for you to step into my path. How foolish of me," Harry smirked. It was probably a mistake, but that had never stopped Harry. The boy shot him the evil eye.

"I think," he said slowly. "That you're going to learn a lesson about how to treat your betters, and soon."

"Great," Harry replied cheerfully. "I'll bear that in mind when I actually meet them." And then he vanished into the crowd as though he'd never been there at all.

Harry slipped back out of the mass of students, which was beginning to thin out and cluster as more and more got on the train. Most of the people still on the platform were just wishing family goodbye, private moments that Harry wouldn't have possibly felt comfortable intruding on. He turned to go find his own, estimating that ten minutes was enough time for mum to cool off but not enough for her to start seriously worrying-he'd vanished in crowded places for longer, after all-when, for the second time that day and only the twelfth since he was six, he bumped into someone, knocking her down.

"Oh!" Fortunately, this someone seemed rather nicer than the last one, as she blushed rather than chewed him out. "Sorry about that." Harry chuckled.

"Who apologises to a guy who practically shoves her?" He extended a hand, which she took and used to pull herself up. "I'm sorry. Already been told to watch where I'm going today and here I go bumping into people who are actually nice." She blushed again at that, to the roots of her plaited red hair. "I'm Harry, by the way. I'd offer a hand, but you've already got it."

"Susan," she laughed, her face fading back to its normal complexion. "Nice to meet you. I hate to be in a rush, but the train's leaving soon and I need to go find my parents. I'll look for you on the train though?"

"Sure," Harry grinned. They parted ways, and Harry took pride in the fact that he'd just made a magical friend.

* * *

"Harry James Granger!" Harry winced. Apparently he'd underestimated his mother's temper. "You have quite a bit of nerve, running off and leaving us with no clue of where you were!" Never mind then, that would be an overestimation of her patience. "On a strange train platform that we didn't even know existed until a month ago, with all sorts of strange folk around." Harry blushed, but more from the looks that that last proclamation that Mum had made. She didn't mean anything by it, of course, but the various witches and wizards around didn't know that. Thankfully Dad chose that moment to step in.

"Leave him be, Monica," he said. "He's just excited about going to school. How many boys his age can you say that about?" Mum sighed as his hand came to rest on her shoulder, as though he'd diffused the ticking time bomb inside of her.

"I suppose you're right, dear."

"Jolly," Dad said, beaming. "Come on then kids, let's go find you a compartment and get your luggage in." He pushed the trolley forward and Hermione followed. Harry moved to do the same, but Mum put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He cringed. Clearly he wasn't as off the hook as he thought.

"Harry," she said, softly. She turned him around to face her and put her free hand on his other shoulder, and kneeled down. There was a strange look in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. "You've got some long years ahead of you, and… and I'm sad that I can't be there for most of it. But I want you to know that I'm proud of you, and everything you're going to do." She smiled a watery smile, and it looked almost like she was trying not to cry. Harry laid a hand on her arm.

"Mum… not that I don't appreciate the quiet moment together, but shouldn't you be saying this to Hermione too?"

"I spoke to your sister before we left." She blinked the tears back before speaking again. "Listen, I know it's useless to try and tell you to stay out of trouble;" they both smiled at that. "So I'll just say… do good, alright?" Harry paused.

"Don't you mean do well?" It felt weird to be correcting his mother's grammar, when she had always been a bit of a grammar nazi. But she shook her head.

"No, Harry, that's not what I mean at all." She slowly leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, something she'd always done to comfort him and Hermione when they were younger. He had no illusions about who it was meant to be comforting now. After a long moment, she moved backwards, and ruffled his hair. "Alright son, time to get on the train." Harry nodded, pondering the sudden appearance of water in his eyes that coincided with the realization that yes, he was leaving home for several months finally, truly hit him.

"Okay Mum. I'll see you at Christmas?"

"See you at Christmas." She ran her hand through his hair one more time, prompting him to cover it up protectively. They shared a grin, and then he left, feeling the slightest pang in his heart that hadn't been there before.

It didn't take Harry long to find Dad and Hermione, who were currently fighting to get her trunk onto the racks above a compartment in the last car. He chuckled, and then grabbed his own, intent on showing them what a real man could do, particularly when he didn't pack half a bookstore.

Harry had forgotten, of course, that he was not in fact a real man, but a smaller-than-average boy. Years of football had given him some leg strength, but he was still struggling with the trunk, especially since his father and sister already being in the compartment forced him to do it from the door. He noted with some satisfaction that he was still doing just as good as Dad and Hermione, although that was more a testament to his lighter packing and lack of book obsession. Just as he was considering setting it down and helping them first, yet another hand hit his shoulder.

"Need a hand there, mate?" Harry looked up to find an teenaged redhead giving him a toothy grin. Harry shrugged.

"Sure, if you don't mind helping my dad and sister too."

"Yeah, no problem. Oi, Fred, Ron, get over here!" In a flash two other redheads were there, one identical to the first and the other about Harry's age. "Help me with this kid's trunk, yeah?"

"Now why would we do that, Fred?" Harry blinked. Harry could have sworn one of the ones that had been called over was supposed to be Fred.

"Because, Fred," said Fred. "We need to earn the trust of the ickle firsties, or else how are they going to know who turn to when they need something?"

"Ah, too true, Fred, too true," Fred nodded solemnly. Harry looked at the third one, who Harry assumed was Ron.

"Er… why are they both Fred?"

"They're not," Ron snorted. "The one you met first is George. They think being identical is hilarious." Fred and George both gave Ron looks of betrayal.

"How could you betray our trust so, dearest little brother" George asked, scandalized.

"We confided who was who before in confidence!" Fred continued.

"Yeah, and I'm still not sure if that's right," Ron shot back. "There are times I doubt you even know which one's which."

"Ah, too true, too true," Fred said wistfully. "It would be nice to know for certain, I think. Anyway, weren't we shoving a trunk?"

And so they did, a little awkwardly at first due to the door, but eventually they all found the right spots and managed to push it up. The twins then grabbed another trunk that Ron had been dragging behind him and swung it up as well, ignore his protestation.

"We found you a nice compartment and a little friend just like Mummy asked us, ickle Ronniekins," George said cheerfully.

"So don't go complaining. Now, you two gents can help them out," Fred nodded at Dad and Hermione, who against all odds were _still_ having issues with the trunk. "Can't you?" Harry shrugged.

"We wouldn't all fit anyway."

"Then we'd best be off," the twins smirked in unison. "Best of luck, you both." And then they were off. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged.

"It's probably safer that they aren't actually going in, anyway." And before Harry could ask him what he meant, Ron was slipping into the compartment around Dad, getting under Hermione's trunk to provide leverage that way. Harry shrugged and joined in, but even with their combined efforts it was still a bit of a struggle. Finally, though, they managed to get it up together.

"Merlin, girl," Ron panted. "What the bloody hell did you put in there, rocks?" Hermione frowned at Ron's language.

"Books, actually."

"Our brilliant father here," Harry clapped Dad on the back. "was talked into getting Mione a trunk that was twice as big on the inside, but wouldn't spring for the charm that makes it really light." Ron laughed.

"But those are for clothes!"

"That's what I figured," Dad chuckled. "But I didn't think she would actually completely fill it until she knew how to levitate it or something like that." Ron paled, and then his ears turned the strangest shade of red.

"That's a first year charm. I'm going to kill Fred and George, they could have done this easily." He plopped himself down and started muttering angrily to himself, not noticing when Harry, Hermione and their father stepped out of the compartment.

"Your mother already say her goodbyes?" He asked. They both nodded. "Alright then. Have a wonderful school year, both of you. And Harry," he leveled a glance at his son, who cocked his head cheekily. "Make it at least a month before I get a letter from school?"

"Eh... two weeks."

"Three."

"Deal." Dad chuckled and threw his arms around the both of them, squeezing them tightly. When he let go Hermione mock pouted.

"What, no last minute words for me?"

"I hardly have to worry about you. If you get into trouble it'll be Harry's fault in the first place."

"Hey-" Harry started indignantly, but then stopped. "Nah, you're probably right." Dad smiled.

"Good luck, both of you. I know you'll do me proud." He gave one last smile and went down the nearby steps off the train, leaving his children for their great adventure. If anyone had been watching his face closely, they might have seen the lone tear that escaped him.


	7. The Hogwarts Express

**Before any of you say anything, and I know you will, it is **_**never**_** stated that Susan's parents ever died. When Hagrid mentions the Bones being killed in book one he's talking about her uncle (Amelia's husband) and cousins.**

Ron stared at the Grangers a bit awkwardly when they returned to the compartment, making Harry somewhat uncomfortable. He sat down next to the window and watched as the train started pulled out of the station, inexplicably exiting not into the city, but the rolling countryside. Hermione was, predictably, reading, but when Harry glanced over she was clearly having trouble concentrating, as disconcerted by Ron as he was. Before he could say anything, though, Ron decided to finally break the silence.

"So…" He was not off to a good start. Hermione snapped her book shut and wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

"Is there something we can help you with?"

"Er," Ron stammered, rubbing the back of his head. "I was just wondering… you guys are Muggleborns, right?"

"Yes…" Harry replied slowly, uncertain of where this was going. McGonagall had mentioned there was some prejudice against the children of Muggles in the wizarding world, although not as much as there was just a few years earlier.

"Well I was kind of wondering… d'you know how the fellytone works?" Ron sputtered out. Hermione stared.

"The… fellytone?"

"Yeah," Ron replied a bit excitedly. "I found one in my dad's old shed, and I've been trying for ages to figure it out. How does it talk to someone all the way across the country without using a fireplace?" Neither sibling had any answer to that, in part because they weren't familiar with the technology behind telephones-Harry guessed that was what he was talking about-and part because they were stuck on the word "fireplace."

"Er… sorry mate, no idea," Harry said. Ron looked a little downtrodden at that. "Er… so your family is all wizards, then?" Ron shrugged.

"I s'pose. I think my mum's second cousin or something is an accountant, but we don't talk about him much. What're your names by the way, I didn't really catch them before." Hermione stared at him appraisingly for a moment.

"Hermione Granger," she finally answered, before returning to her book. Harry rolled his eyes. It was a small wonder she didn't have friends back home other than him.

"I'm Harry," he said a bit more chipperly.

"I'm Ron Weasley." Harry didn't mention that he already knew Ron's first name. "So, er, Harry," Ron started, clearly intimidated by Hermione. "What exactly is a rubber duck for?"

Historians would never know the contents of this conversation. The only thing history books would know happened was that they met on the train to Hogwarts. No one would ever, in a million years, even dare to dream that the legendary friendship of Ron Weasley and Harry Granger began with a discussion on the rubber duck.

* * *

Harry was just instructing Ron on how to make a paper plane without magic (a difficult thing using parchment, but they managed) when the compartment door slid open to reveal a welcome face: Susan from the platform.

"Harry!" She smiled at him. "There you are, I've been looking for you."

"I wasn't exactly hiding," he grinned back. Susan waved someone forward from down the corridor.

"Neville, c'mon, I found us a place to sit." And without further ado she slid into place next to Harry, followed shortly by a round faced boy who was almost as small as Harry. "Harry, this is Neville," Susan said. "His grandmother and my aunt are friends. He's kind of the only person I know here."

"S'no problem. That's Ron Weasley there," Harry nodded to Ron, who gave a little wave. "And this is my sister Hermione." Hermione gave a small grunt of recognition, never taking her eyes from her book. Neville didn't say anything at all either,

The conversation carried on as it had before, with the exception that Susan talked as well. Apparently, Harry was delighted to learn, both of his new friends were extremely well versed in professional Quidditch, although it got a little awkward when it came out that Ron's team, the Chudley Cannons, were the hated rivals of Susan's, the Falmouth Falcons. Much as he'd have loved to keep going on about the greatest sport in the history of the world (in Harry's professional opinion, in any case), years of putting up with his Muggle friends doing battle over football teams had given him an instinct for avoidance, so he quickly jumped on the first subject he could think of.

"So what do you guys' parents do?" He blurted out. Ron and Susan broke off of their pitched glaring contest to stare at him instead. "Er, I mean, I was kind of curious what wizards do after they finish school." Susan shrugged.

"My dad's in the Goblin Liason Office at the Ministry and my mother's a housewitch. Nothing special."

"Yeah," Ron said, his hostility gone as quickly as it had come. "My mum just owns a restaurant. Not that different from Muggles, except she cooks with magic. My brothers, Bill and Charlie, though, they've got cool jobs." Harry twirled his hand in the universal "go on" motion, and he blushed slightly. "Er, Bill's a curse breaker, he goes into tombs with a bunch of other wizards and collects artifacts, and Charlie's in Romania working with dragons." Harry stared. "… what?"

"You're telling me that one of your brothers is a magical Indiana Jones, and the other is a dragon tamer."

"Well, er, no idea what an Indiana Jones is, but yeah, I guess."

"I wish I had brothers as cool as yours. All I've got is Hermione, and she's the opposite of cool." Harry grinned as he nudged her with his foot. She didn't look up, but she was clearly fighting her own smile off as she gave an automatic "prat." Ron just snorted.

"Yeah, no you don't, believe me. Bill was Head Boy, Charlie was the Quidditch Captain, Percy's not only managing to graduate two years early but is the only Slytherin Weasley ever, Fred and George are the Prank Kings of Hogwarts, and my little sister Ginny is the only girl in the family. You try standing out in that crowd of success." Despite the bitterness his words could imply he didn't seem too broken up about it. When Harry mentioned it he chuckled. "Well, I'm the only one who ever helps make dinner at home, so even if they're all amazing at what they do I'm still Mum's favorite." This sent a wave of laughter around the compartment, even from Hermione, who was still reading her book.

"So your mum has a restaurant," Harry said when they finally calmed down. "What about your dad? What does he do?" Ron shrugged.

"He's dead. Don't," he said warningly when Susan opened her mouth. "Don't do the "I'm so sorry" thing, you have no idea how old it gets. It was ages ago anyway, in the war."

"I kind of understand," Susan started. "My uncle-"

"Hold up, hold up," Harry interrupted. "You lost me at 'war.' When the hell was there a war?" Hermione snorted.

"Honestly Harry, if you just _read_ the history textbook, you'd know," she said, her first actual contribution to the conversation. "About twenty years ago a nasty Dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort got a following of other nasty Dark wizards and tried to take over the country."

"It was a bad time," Susan supplied. "Everybody was terrified, most people couldn't even say Voldemort's name they were so afraid of him. He left death and chaos everywhere he went."

"Then on Halloween about ten years ago, he was defeated by an infant," Hermione continued. "Harry Potter. Or, to be more precise, his mother. Apparently for some reason Voldemort offered to spare her if she gave her son up, and she refused, so he killed her, and for some reason that gave him protection from him. No one's certain of why. Anyway Voldemort tried to kill baby Harry Potter, the curse he used rebounded, and he up and exploded."

"That should have been the end of it," Ron picked up. Apparently this was a big, well known story in the Wizarding world, Harry thought. "The Death Eaters lost their leader and they were always a bunch of cowards. But then Harry vanished. Dumbledore-that's the Headmaster-he left Harry with Muggle relatives. I don't understand the specifics, exactly, but apparently they never actually got him. So Dumbledore went looking, and eventually found his dead body. He became a martyr for the Light, everyone became outraged, and that sort of kept the war going. No one could get away with saying they were under mind control like most of them wanted to."

"My parents fought in it back then." Everyone jumped slightly-they'd completely forgotten that Neville was there too, until he'd spoken in a quiet voice. "Everyone tells me stories about it, though they never do. Don't want to hurt my innocence, they say. Not many people on our side died after that, Death Eaters on the run after all. But some did…"

"My dad was part of the raid against Lucius Malfoy that ended it all," Ron said quietly. "That's the guy who took over when the Death Eaters had to rally back together. Malfoy himself cast the curse that did it … he died like a hero." No one could really say anything to that. "I don't remember him much, I was only four or five." No one really had anything to say to that. They sat together in silence, a remarkably comfortable one considering what they'd just discussed. Harry busied himself by thinking of how cool it was that he shared a name with the closest he'd heard of to a wizarding messiah, and then vaguely wondering if Jesus might have been a wizard as well.

A knock on the door shook them out of their reverie, and it slid open to reveal a woman pushing a trolley full of sweets.

"Anything from the cart, dears?" Any sense of melancholy vanished to three identical grins and a timid smile from Neville.

* * *

Fortunately for Harry, while the trolley woman hadn't been willing to accept his Muggle money Ron eagerly did. Harry felt slightly guilty since a five pound note for a hubcap-sized coin of solid gold seemed a bit unfair, but when his first Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean turned out to be treacle tart he quickly discarded that guilt for pleasure. The mood in the compartment had lightened considerably, with Harry and Susan gambling on Bean flavors, Ron drinking the caramel from his Chocolate Cauldron like punch, and Neville trying very desperately to catch the Chocolate Frog that had jumped from his hand and was now skipping around him mockingly. Even Hermione, who normally adhered to their parents rule against candy as snacks, was nibbling on a Sugarless Sugar Quill and using it to take notes in the margins.

"I'm not touching it," Susan was saying. The last Bertie Bott's Bean sat between her and Harry, a funny grayish coloured one that had been daring them to try since the box had been opened. Harry pushed it toward her with one finger.

"I ate the last one, it's your turn."

"What, are you chicken Granger?" She smirked at him, pushing the bean back his direction.

"No," Harry smirked back. "I'm just saying in the interest of fairness, it's your turn."

"Alright then, I pass."

"I pass too."

"… well played. Now eat it." Before they could carry on, though, a hand shot out and grabbed it.

"For the record," Hermione said. "I'm only doing this so you two will shut up." She popped the in her mouth and chewed. And then promptly spit it out. Susan and the boys burst out laughing.

"Nice one, Hermione," Ron chuckled. She flushed.

"Well you try having a mouthful of pepper and see how well you react." She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and glanced out the window at the steadily darkening sky. "We'll probably get there soon, I think. Boys, out." Ron and Harry stared at her questioningly.

"We need to change into our uniforms," Susan supplied helpfully. Harry blushed and nodded, while Ron just kept on staring. Neville shook his head and put a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"I'll explain it to you later," he said.

* * *

"What are you reading, anyway?" Ron asked Hermione after they'd all finished changing. "You've barely stopped since the train left, and I know you were farther along than you are now before." Hermione sighed.

"It's called _Hogwarts: A History._" She said before returning to it.

"Again, Mione?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You've read it cover to cover five times already, surely you have it memorized."

"It's very interesting," Hermione said defensively. "All the stuff about the Founders and the changes made since the school was built. Did you know that there are more than five thousand rooms in the castle, but only one hundred and twenty are still used?"

"Seems like rather a lot," Susan commented. Hermione shrugged.

"Magical Britain used to be a lot larger. Condemning witches in the name of religion wasn't that popular until around the twelfth century." Hermione flipped a couple of pages. "But that's not what I'm re-reading it again for. I'm trying to figure out which House I want to be in, so I'm trying to find everything I can on them. According to the index there's over three hundred pages that talk about them."

"How-" Harry was about to ask how there could be so many in such a tiny book, but stopped himself. "Right, magic."

"You're wasting your time Hermione," Ron said dismissively. "Doesn't matter how much you read about them, you don't get to choose your House."

"What?" Hermione stared at him. "But the book didn't say anything about that! How do we get placed then?" Ron shrugged.

"Fred said we have to fight a troll. It was Fred, though, so I'm pretty sure he was having me on."

"It's supposed to stay a secret," Susan said. "At least that's what my Auntie told me. We get Sorted at the feast, the first night, but it's this big tradition that you don't get to know how until it happens." She sighed. "My parents were in Hufflepuff, and everyone says it runs in families, but I'm not that sure that's where I want to be."

"That's my family and Gryffindor," Neville said with a wistful look.

"I kind of like the sound of Gryffindor," Harry said. "That or Slytherin. Lord knows I'm cunning enough." Ron snorted.

"You wish Harry. Muggleborns never get into Slytherin. Salazar never wanted them at Hogwarts altogether. Besides, they've got a reputation for turning out Dark wizards."

"Didn't you say your brother was in Slytherin?"

"Yeah, and he's twice as much of a prat as he was before." Ron was smirking, so Harry figured it was best not to take him seriously. "Nah, Gryffindor's the place to be. That or maybe Ravenclaw."

"Ron, I've spent all of seven hours with you and I know you're no Ravenclaw," Susan grinned. "And what's so wrong with Hufflepuff anyway?" Ron shrugged.

"No one much respects Hufflepuffs. When your founder's line is "I'll take whoever the others don't want" you're off to a pretty bad start. Besides, you just said you weren't sure about it." Susan blushed.

"That's just because my Auntie's a Gryffindor and I really look up to her."

"So hope for Gryffindor," Harry said. "S'not like anyone will think any less of you. And… they sort by personality, yeah? I mean from what very little I've read that's what the Houses are based on." Susan nodded. "So if you turn out to be more brave than hardworking, or whatever Hufflepuff is, that's just the way you are, right?" Susan gave him a funny look, and then smiled.

"I suppose you're right at that." They steadily drifted back into other topics, but Harry couldn't help noticing that Neville, like Susan, suddenly seemed just a bit happier.


	8. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"A hat," Ron muttered flatly. "All that ribbing from Fred and George I put up with, all that worrying we did, and we just have to put on a hat." And indeed, they did. After fretting on the boats that Hagrid the friendly giant brought them across the lake on, and then in the antechamber that McGonagall had dumped them in, the first years had been brought out to the Great Hall, in front of every student in the school, and a hat had sung that they were to put it on and it would Sort them. How _any_ of that last part made sense, Harry didn't know, but he was quickly learning to put aside logic where magic was concerned. McGonagall rolled open a scroll of parchment and informed them that they were to come up and try on the hat when called.

"Abbot, Hannah." And so it began. Hannah, a short blond girl in pigtails, walked up to the stool, her face pink, and sat down. McGonagall dropped the hat on her head, and then they sat. After a minute had passed, the hat decreed that she was a "HUFFLEPUFF!", sending waves of applause along the second table from the left and polite clapping through the other three. Hufflepuffs, Harry decided as he watched Hannah join her new table, were a delightfully friendly bunch, welcoming her with open arms and warm smiles.

"Bones, Susan." The girl in question grabbed Harry's hand quite suddenly and gave it a hard squeeze before walking up. He glanced at Ron, who had been on her other side, and saw that he, too, had been squeezed, and was now holding his hand and wincing. Susan took her place on the stool and took one last look in their direction. He gave as encouraging a smile as he could, before the hat dropped onto her head and over her eyes.

* * *

"_**Ah, a Bones. How delightful, I haven't had one of you in a number of decades."**_

"Er… yeah, I guess," Susan muttered under her breath. "My parents did wait a while before having me. You should have had my cousins, but…"

"_**I had heard about that. A dreadful thing, that war was. It claimed so many I never got to Sort. But alas, we cannot dwell on the might-have-beens, now can we? Now, if I'm remembering correctly, Bones's are traditionally Hufflepuff, yes? I remember sorting your father and uncle. Your mother as well. Only Parkinson I ever sent to Hufflepuff you know."**_ It was true, Susan thought. Everyone in her family for many generations back had been Hufflepuffs, and they fully expected her to be as well. _**"Quite right"**__,_ whispered the voice in her ear. She jumped. _**"Don't be so surprised, Ms. Bones; I am a mind reading hat after all. I would be quite terrible at my job if I didn't know everything you were thinking. But enough about that. **_

"_**You would be an excellent Hufflepuff, I can tell. But that isn't quite what you want though, is it?**__"_ Not quite. She could hardly say she'd be miserable in Hufflepuff. In fact she'd probably enjoy it. Puffs were legendary for their loyalty, after all, especially to each other. But… _**"But, you do not wish to be like your parents. Don't fret my dear, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I've encountered it often enough before. No, you wish to emulate your Aunt Amelia. I don't suppose this was Amelia Prewett, by any chance?"**_ _Yeah, that's her._ _**"I do remember her… I wouldn't worry much, dear. You take quite a bit after her. You'd be quite the Gryffindor as well... tell me, are you quite certain of where you wish to go?"**_

Susan paused. The Hat was leaving it up to her, that much was clear. A part of her had always hoped for Gryffindor, though she wouldn't have been at all upset if the hat took one look and sent her to the House of Badgers. Now, though, when it was very clearly an option, she found herself hesitating. Everyone was expecting her to be in Hufflepuff, including Auntie. Her parents would be disappointed if she weren't. Not to the point of, say, disowning her, of course, but those expectations, she knew, always forgot that there was rarely a choice in the matter. They would be hurt if they thought she'd rather not be in their House.

"_**You **_**would**_** rather not be in their House."**_ the Hat pointed out wrly.

Fair enough, but they didn't need to know that. And it wasn't like she didn't like Hufflepuff, anyway. Perhaps it was better to just go where she was expected…

"_So hope for Gryffindor," Harry said. "S'not like anyone will think any less of you." "So if you turn out to be more brave than hardworking, or whatever Hufflepuff is, that's just the way you are, right?"_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Harry applauded alongside the members of Gryffindor, who gave off less of the "welcome to the club" vibe that the Hufflepuffs did and more of a "welcome to the party" one. The sorting continued with "Boot, Terry," who went to Ravenclaw, as Susan took a seat and gave their little group a warm smile. Harry returned it with a little wave before looking around at the rest of the first years, taking a mild interest in each of their Sortings and moreso in their faces going up. Every single one of them ranged from nervous to terrified, though Harry couldn't say why. He knew that House played a large role in Wizarding society. It influenced interactions throughout the Hogwarts years, how others viewed you beyond that, and if Susan and Neville were anything to go by, there could be quite a bit of pressure from one's family. He had no doubt that if Ron's brother Percy weren't a Slytherin already, he would probably be wringing his hands over Gryffindor in the same way. But a person could hardly say, going in, where they know they'd be happiest.

"Granger, Harry."

Oh. That was his cue. He shrugged and walked up rather nonchalantly, and threw a vague grin at the student body before they vanished past the wide brim of an oversized hat.

Nothing happened.

_… hello?_

"_**Hm? Oh, sorry my boy, I was just puzzling over your brain." **I beg your pardon?_ _**"It's the strangest thing, really, I can see most of it as normal, but there's an entire section that's been cordoned off and blocked. I'm quite the curious individual you know, so I'm just trying to work around it. While I work though, might as well get you Sorted." **Um… alright then._

"_**Hm, but if you aren't the difficult one. Your clever, certainly, but you'd not last five minutes in Ravenclaw. Loyal to a fault, but lazier than a summer afternoon. Hm… oh, but you are a brave one. Anyone who would execute the Great Clock Caper under Mrs. Monroe's watchful eye would have to be."**_

_Thank you. I aim to amuse._

_**That you do. Yes, I know just the place for you. And perfect timing, as I've just found a back door. Now, let's see what's been hidden in your head." **What is it?** "Oh... oh**_** dear."** _What?__** "I had thought it was the result of some of trauma, but this is so much more. **__**Oh, my dear boy, the secrets hidden in this mind.**_.." Er… what secrets?** "I cannot tell you." **What? Come on, that is so not fair! _** "Oh, heavens no. You really shouldn't know. In fact, **_**I**_** really shouldn't know. This is a dangerous secret, my boy." **That may be so, but it's in _my _head!_

"_**No, and I'll hear nothing more of it. **_GRYFFINDOR!"

_Damn_, Harry thought as the hat vanished from his eyes. He stood and made a beeline for the seat next to Susan, his face pensive. She gave him a concerned look.

"What's wrong," she asked. Harry shook his head.

"Nothing, just something that Hat said. Don't worry about it." And then he focused solely on Hermione, who was sitting through her own Sorting. Susan wisely chose not to push it.

* * *

"_**Hello there."**_

_… Hat?_

"_**My but do you catch on quick."**_

_You're making fun of me, aren't you?_

"_**Quite. Now let's take a look. Hm… oh."**_ _What?_ _**"Oh, Salazar, the regrets you must have." **Salazar? Like Salazar Slytherin, the Founder?_ _**"Oh yes, my dear. I can see quite clearly, you are exceptionally intelligent and remarkably studious, but yours is not the soul of a Ravenclaw. You do not study for the sake of knowledge, but because, if I have the adage correct, knowledge is power."**_

This was absolutely true. While learning was fascinating, everything Hermione studied she studied so that she could use it. She'd committed her textbooks to memory to do well in classes. She'd read Hogwarts: A History so much in the hopes of impressing her fellow students. She'd studied that beginner's medical book of her father's when she was nine so that if a fellow student went into cardiac arrest she'd know what to do. Every single thing she focused on learning she did for a purpose.

"_**In other words, Ms. Granger, you wish for knowledge for an advantage. This is a textbook Slytherin attitude. You wish to prove yourself to others, both magical and Muggle. Also textbook Slytherin. You'd likely step on anyone who dared to get in your way. Textbook Slytherin."**__No I wouldn't!_ _**"Magical psychic hat, dear. And in any case, ambition is not a bad thing. But, alas, when Salazar created me he put it in my enchantments not to allow any Muggleborn into Slytherin. A shame if you ask me; the things you could accomplish with the connections Slytherin would give you and the environment it would create would be simply amazing. He must be rolling in his grave for losing a mind like yours to such shortsightedness."**_

_So where does that leave me? Gryffindor?_

"_**I can see that **_**was**_** your first choice, wasn't it? But now are you so sure of that?"**_ _What do you mean? Of course I am, especially now that Harry's there._ _**"Especially?"**_ _Yes!_ _**"Come now my dear, I see everything you feel. You'll find it quite impossible to lie to me."**_ _Well…_

If she were being totally honest with herself-and of course the blasted hat was making her do so-Harry being in Gryffindor made it seem…

"_**Go on."**_ _Shut up and let me have my introspective monologue, hat._ _**"Impressive vocabulary. The floor is yours."**_

It wasn't that she didn't love Harry. Of course she did, he was her only brother. Must as his antics and shenanigans sometimes exasperated her, she wouldn't trade him away for anything. But she had never been quite the warmest of people, or the most approachable. She was self-aware enough to know that she was too bossy for her own good, and too overbearing. It was no secret that she didn't really have friends. Study partners, yes, who took advantage of her large brain and one-track studying habits to pass exams and ace essays, but never anyone who liked her for, well, her. Harry had only ever made it worse, though not intentionally of course. He was the friendly, happy-go-lucky one, the one that people wanted to be friends with, and much as Hermione loved him he could be so ruddy oblivious to other people's feelings that he'd never even noticed unless someone was directly picking on her. Of course then he'd go into a brotherly rampage of chaos, but if it didn't reach that point he was none the wiser to how she felt.

The ultimate result of this, of course, was that Hermione had always had the slightest twinge of bitterness towards her brother, and perhaps, she now thought, being away from him, in a different house, one that appreciated an intellectual, would be a good thing for both her social skills and her self-esteem.

"_**I think you're rather right about that, Ms. Granger. **_RAVENCLAW!"

* * *

"Longbottom, Neville."

"_**Hello Mr. Longbottom. Nervous?"**_ _Um… shouldn't you know that already?_ _**"Quite right. And you aren't. I was rather surprised, given how your father was, but really taking a hard look you take far more after your mother. So, you're certain of what you want?"**_ _Er, yes, Mr. Hat sir._ _**"Good. Your new friends were far more difficult than you, you know. I'm quite grateful to Mr. Granger, actually, his words earlier made you much easier than you would have been.**_ HUFFLEPUFF!"

* * *

Ron Weasley was sweating. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat. His fingers twitched of their own accord. In short, he was incredibly, incredibly nervous, and only getting worse with time. Silently he cursed his last name for being so far down in the alphabet. Why couldn't his family have been the Beasleys? Or at least the Keasleys. No, it had to be Weasley. And McGonagall was only just now getting to the M's. Bugger.

"Macdougal, Morag."

"RAVENCLAW!

"Macmillan, Ernie."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malfoy, Draco."

The hall fell silent. You could have dropped a pin outside the doors and it would have been heard. It was well known that Lucius Malfoy had a son around Ron's age, but no one expected him to show his face around Hogwarts. In fact Narcissa and Draco Malfoy hadn't been seen in Britain since her acquittal after the war. Rumor had it they'd been living in France, and that Draco would likely attend Beauxbatons or, more likely, Durmstrang.

Ron leveled a glare. Draco Malfoy's father had killed his own, and was currently serving a sentence of twenty years in Azkaban for all his many crimes, to be ended with a Dementor's Kiss. A long and horrific sentence that could only beg the sweet release of death that would never come, and good riddance. Had it not been for association by guilt Ron might have actually felt sorry for Draco, who, like him, had grown up without a father. Logic said that Draco Malfoy had nothing to do with Arthur Weasley's death, that he deserved sympathy, even pity for the reputation he would have even coming to Hogwarts. Logic, however, was not Ron's strong point.

There was a peculiar look on McGonagall's face as she held the hat above Malfoy's head, as though she were evaluating him. She lowered it down to his head, and on contact it shouted out.

"SLYTHER- wait." Almost at once a wave of surprised muttering washed through the students. Never, in the history of Hogwarts, had the Sorting Hat changed its mind in mid-declaration. Most believed the Hat never changed its mind at all, and that the discussions it had with some of the people who put it on were to lead them to the same conclusion it had already made. That it would do so now was simply impossible. "RAVENCLAW!" The hat decided after few minutes more. The look on Draco Malfoy's face as the hat came off was one of profound relief. He went straight to the Ravenclaw table, where he was met with nothing even remotely resembling a welcome, and took a seat entirely too close to Hermione for Ron's liking.

All nervousness was forgotten, as well as the roll call. Ron's attention was now locked on to Malfoy. Not any particular thoughts, rather, but just a general deluge of negative emotion. And so it came as entirely a surprise when his name in reverse ("Weasley, Ron.") was shouted out, shaking him from his reverie. Malfoy had barely moved since sitting down and said nothing to anyone, so Ron deemed that it was safe to take his eyes off of him for at least a few minutes. Then he looked back at the hat and all the nervous tension he'd forgotten about came back in full force. He gulped and walked forward. Sat down. Squeezed his eyes shut.

'_Here goes nothing.'_

"GRYFFINDOR!" Ron's eyes popped back open and he looked up. The hat had barely brushed his hair.

Well, that wasn't so bad.

* * *

Harry applauded with the rest of his housemates as came over and joined him and Susan, a wicked grin on his face. The Weasley Twins, in celebration of their brother joining them, were standing on the table doing some kind of line dance, although they got down fairly quickly with identical cheeky smirks when McGonagall shot them a Look of Death that seemed all too well practised. After Blaise Zabini, the last first year standing there, was sent to "SLYTHERIN!" and the far right table's cheers died down, Professor Dumbledore, the wizened old Headmaster who could pass for Gandalf with no problems at all, stood, smiling.

"Welcome! Welcome all of you to Hogwarts, and to our older students, welcome back! I realize that you all must be hungry after a long day of eating sweets on the train," he paused as a few people chuckled. "But first, I have just a few words I must say. Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak! Now tuck in!"

Harry's first thought was that the Headmaster was just a little bit mad. His second was that Hogwarts was bloody amazing, as the food for the feast literally materialised onto the table.

The Hogwarts Welcoming Feast, held at the beginning of every year, was two hours long, and consisted of almost every food the kitchen House Elves could think of. Roast chicken and fried turkey, sliced ham and porkchops, duck and pheasant and quail and rhea. All 18 unique cuts of steak arranged artfully on platters. Beef stew, chicken soup, white chowder, bouillabaisse and borscht sat in serving bowls up and down each table, their ladles rising of their own accord to fill students' bowls. Gnocchi and lasagna shared the table with sushi and yakisoba, though nowhere near each other as the elves who made Italian and those that made Japanese shared a fierce rivalry. Fried fish and chips straight from your favorite stand sat next to gourmet caviar. And, for some strange reason, there was a bowl of mint humbugs at the middle of every table.

Within the first hour, Harry and Ron had sampled a bit of everything they could reach. That is, "a bit" meaning a plateful. It was a comical sight to watch, nearly causing Susan to choke on her potatoes at one point from laughing. From then on nobody looked in their direction while chewing. Finally, with half an hour left in the feast, they cleaned their plates for the fourteenth time, turned their forks over, and sighed in unison. Ron patted his distended belly with a blissful look on his face.

"I don't think I could eat another bite," he said. And then dessert appeared.


	9. A Stopper on Death

**Ohey, I got flamed. I was wondering how long it would take to happen. Timber, I recognize your name so I don't doubt in the slightest that you're still reading despite your harsh words, so here's the deal. I am going somewhere with this. There is a reason no one is noticing Harry's resemblance to his father, his mother's eyes, etc. There are clues here and there. Some are subtle. Others are less so. There will be some that are a hammer to the face. Now you can throw more flames at me, or, you can sit down, shut up and see if you're as smart as I give the rest of my readers credit for. I don't care one way or another. Come at me bro.**

When at last the plates had cleared, much to the relief Harry, Ron, and many of the other students who were just now feeling the impact of their overeating, Dumbledore stood again. As one the students hushed; the man had a unique ability to draw the attention of everyone around him without making a sound. He cast a sweeping gaze over the four tables before speaking.

"Now that we've all eaten our fill-or more than, as the case may be," he chuckled. It seemed almost like he was looking at Harry and Ron, and they grinned at each other sheepishly. "I have just a few start-of-term announcements before we can all go and sleep this feast off. First, as always, I must remind you that students are not allowed in the Forbidden Forest without supervisions. I do not quite understand why I must do this, as it is in the name, but there you go. I must also remind that dueling in the corridors is expressly forbidden. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, would like me to inform you all that twenty-seven new items have been added to his List of Contraband, bringing the total to 547. Anyone wishing to see the full list may inquire at his office." Harry made a note to do just that. It sounded like a good place to research potential pranks.

"On to less stern matters. First and foremost, I would like to inform you that the Charms classroom has been moved for this year. The portraits will be happy to direct you to wherever the new room we've chosen ends up on that day. Now, please give a warm welcome back to our Muggle Studies professor, Quirinus Quirrel, who has just returned from his year-long sabbatical travelling the world." A rather meek looking man in a purple turban near one end of the staff table stood to a polite smattering of applause, and quickly sat down again. "Next, please welcome our, ahem, "new" professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sirius Black." The response to this professor was far more excited than Quirrel's had been, with the hall erupting into a combination of cheering and laughter. Professor Black, a lean man with silky black hair, grinned and waved.

"Fred, George and Charlie all told me about him," Ron shouted over the cacophony. "He's apparently really good. Everyone loves him."

"You think?" Susan shouted back. When the uproar died down, Dumbledore chuckled.

"It is truly wonderful to see such enthusiasm for Professor Black's continued employment. Now, I would very much love to lead us all in a rendition of the school song…" he trailed off and turned what appeared almost to be a pleading look at McGonagall, whose lips went thin. "But alas, the hour grows late. First years, please follow your prefects to your respective Common Rooms. Sweet dreams, children."

* * *

Magic, Harry quickly learned, did not consist mainly of swishing a wand and saying a few words. In fact, his first few teachers seemed quite intent on preventing any magic from being done at all. Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, informed them right off the bat that wands would see virtually no use in her greenhouses, due to the reactive nature of plants to magic. Everything was to be done with pure elbow grease. Professor Sinistra had a similar stance. While she did say that they would eventually learn charms to automatically target their telescopes, first year was spent learning where things were and thus would not involve any magic.

Charms class was taught by the diminutive Professor Flitwick on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and on the way to their first class Harry, Ron and Susan quickly learned what Dumbledore had meant about asking the portraits for directions. Unlike the Greenhouses, which were on the grounds, and the Towers, which were on the edge of the castle, every room, hallway and staircase within had a tendency to not be where you left them the day before. The older students assured them that there was always a pattern which they would learn quickly enough, but until then they had to rely on the goodwill of the talking, intelligent paintings that hung from the wall.

Charms itself quickly became an enormous letdown. As soon as Flitwick finished calling roll he gave a quick call of "wands away" and was answered with a roomful of groans. He quickly explained that most of their class time for the first two months would be spent studying theory and wand movements. Naturally he was not the most well liked of teachers by Gryffindor House.

Their first bit of magic for the week came in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class on Wednesday afternoon. After a lecture on Gamp's Laws and their exceptions, essentially a list of dos and don'ts about Transfiguration, McGonagall handed out matchsticks and explained the basics behind how to transfigure any object into another object. They were then allowed, to their tremendous delight, to attempt to turn them into needles. No one actually fully succeeded, although Susan's had gone pointy, Harry turned his silvery, and Seamus Finnigan managed to put an eye in his, but no one particularly cared because they were actually casting spells.

Professor Binns, on the other hand, was the most boring teacher Harry had ever had in his life, ever. This was surprising, as one would imagine a class taught by a ghost would be awesome and exciting. As it turned out, not so much. The most exciting part of the class was the very beginning, when Binns floated in through the wall. The class then went downhill quickly, as the ghost did roll in such a dry monotone that Harry half expected him to start calling "Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?" He then turned to the board and began talking about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612, apparently starting from the middle of the lecture as they were given no context whatsoever as to what was going on. Harry quite quickly decided that this class would be nap time. He could always nick Hermione's notes to study for the exam.

Friday finally came, which, according to the timetables they had received at the beginning of the week, meant it was time for Harry's most anticipated classes yet: Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Potions, as Harry understood from the Weasley Twins, was the single easiest way to prank a person. Slip a bit of Dye Draught or Essence of Goat into a person's goblet and you had instant amusement. Meanwhile Defense was Professor Black's class, and after hearing nothing but good things about him since arriving at Hogwarts Harry was eager to learn from him.

"So, what do you think Snape and Black are like?" Harry asked around a piece of bacon at breakfast that morning.

"Fred and George say Snape's a nightmare, really harsh on them," Ron supplied helpfully. Hermione snorted.

"Given their reputation that's not that surprising Ron," Susan said.

"Well, even McGonagall's strict with them, and they like her. But from what I hear Snape's Head of Slytherin, and he always favors them. He looks for the flimsiest excuses to take away other Houses' points and ignores Slytherins getting in trouble."

"He can't be that bad, I'm sure." Susan twisted around slightly towards the Hufflepuff table and spotted Neville a bit farther down, sitting with Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Hey Neville, Justin," she called. They turned to look at her. "You guys had Potions yesterday, right? How was Snape?" There was no audible response. Justin just shuddered, while Neville went pale and started looking around as if terrified that the very mention of Snape could summon him.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure he's great," Harry said with a wry grin. He cracked his knuckles. He had a feeling Snape would make a fun... target.

* * *

The dungeon (which quite disappointed Harry, as it was far more like a basement than a dungeon) in which Snape's classroom was held consisted of a desk at the front, a large number of tables and fire pits, and shelves upon shelves of bottled potions and ingredients which seemed to be in an internal war of interesting versus disgusting. The students all took their seats, setting up cauldrons over the pits and preparing their parchment and quills.

_BANG!_ The doors flung open and Professor Snape, a greasy haired, hook nosed man with a goatee, swooped into the classroom with his robes billowing out behind him in an impressively menacing manner. He held in front of him a sheet of parchment, from which he immediately began reading off names. Everyone immediately responded to their name being called, not wanting to incur the impatience of this perfectly terrifying teacher. Even Harry, who'd prepared a selection of twelve snarky comments, dared not say anything other than "present." Once he had finished, Snape tossed the roll onto his desk and swept his eyes across the room.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said, his voice little more than a whisper but carrying all the way to the back of the room. The corner of his mouth twitched, as though at least momentarily pleased that he had everyone's absolute attention. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" he paused, and Harry gave him bonus points for dramatic effect. "I can teach you how to bottle fame; brew glory; even put a stopper on death. That is, if you aren't as ignorant a bunch as I usually have to teach."

Silence fell across the room. Harry felt the insatiable urge to stand and applaud, but fought it down. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he did the consequences would not be worth it.

"Patil!" The girl in question, first name Parvati, jumped in her seat. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Um… uh… I don't know, sir?" Parvati stammered out.

"Pitiful. I knew your father in school, Patil, and as arrogant and uncouth as he might have been he still would have known the answer in your shoes. Clearly neither you nor your sister had any desire to live up to even his pathetic standard." Parvati could only whimper. "Granger!" Snape turned his eye to Harry. "I had your sister the other day. An insufferable know-it-all even by Ravenclaw standards." Harry's cheeks burned with anger. Nobody talked about his sister like that but him. "Let's see how you compare, shall we? Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" Harry glared at him.

"An apothecary," he spat. Snape's eyes widened; it appeared he was unused to such a harsh response on the first day. "Or I suppose I could stick my hand in a goat's stomach, but then, why would I need to?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Granger," Snape snarled. Harry just gave him a perverse grin. "Bones, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing, sir," Susan answered. "They're the same plant." She had a thoughtful look about her. "Although isn't that more an Herbology question?"

"Herbology and Potions are incontrovertibly linked," Snape sneered. "Working knowledge of the former is required for the latter, or you will quickly find yourself and anyone around you exploding. Five points from Gryffindor." Susan blinked, uncertain of what she'd said to lose points.

"Granger, for all his disrespect, was correct, as was Bones. It is… refreshing to see Gryffindors who have actually taken enough interest in Potions to even glance at their book. The same cannot be said of Patil, who did not know that asphodel and wormwood are key ingredients in a sleeping potion so powerful that it is known as the Draught of Living Death. And the same cannot be said about anyone else in this room, it seems. A point from every Gryffindor that hasn't been writing this down, and an additional point for every second that goes by that you are _not_ writing it down." There was a flurry of movement from the Gryffindor side as parchment, quills and ink were rapidly extracted from bags. Wisely, no one pointed out that the Slytherins hadn't written anything either. Harry scribbled down his notes automatically, out of House pride, but was barely concentrating on them, instead hanging on to one solid fact:

Target number one: identified.


	10. Black's Tale

**A reminder: Harry is an eleven year old boy who's extent in dealing with emotional crap has consisted of one easily resolved conversation about leaving his friends. Don't judge him too harshly here.**

"Hermione!" Harry ran over to his sister, who was just outside the door to the Great Hall. Lunch was only halfway through, but Harry had noticed her leaving every meal early after only eating very lightly. Of course she'd never been a heavy eater, but it still troubled him.

"Hey Harry," she said a bit absentmindedly, though she didn't stop walking even when he caught up to her. With nothing else to do he walked alongside her, taking them along a path to what Harry assumed, knowing his sister, could only be the library.

"Er, how've you been doing," he asked awkwardly.

"Just fine, Harry." The answer was short and flat, and it stung just a little bit.

In truth he hadn't actually taken the time to talk to her all week, which he felt only a little ashamed about. Though they had a good relationship as siblings they'd never quite been friends, and being in different Houses made it difficult anyway, but he still should have made the effort. It appeared that she was angry with him for it, and he could hardly blame her.

"Why do you ask?" Harry blinked. Okay, she wasn't angry. She never kept a conversation going when she was angry.

"I, er, had Professor Snape this morning."

"Oh?" Okay, this was getting weird.

"Yeah… he said something about you. I think the exact words were 'insufferable know-it-all.'" She winced, faintly, but otherwise didn't react. "So, er, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that he didn't say anything too hurtful to you."

"I'm fine, Harry. I appreciate your concern, but I didn't let him get under my skin." Her breath hitched a little, the tell-tale sign of a lying Hermione, but it was mostly in that increasingly creepy detached voice. "Listen, it was great talking to you, but I really have to go." She stopped suddenly and reached out to a nearby tapestry, pulling it aside to reveal an upward spiraling staircase. She vanished without a word, letting the tapestry fall back into place. Harry stared for a second at her abrupt exit, then shoved it aside himself to follow her only to have his face collide with solid stone.

Trust Hermione to have figured out the secret passages already.

Harry sighed and made his way back down to the Great Hall, his mood made slightly better by the fact that he only got lost twice. He wasn't certain what was wrong with Hermione, but what's more he had no idea what to do about it. In primary school their relationship had had very clearly divided lines: Harry was the protector, who warded away the sort of vicious bullies that liked to prey on quiet bookworms, and Hermione was the one who fixed the sorts of problems you couldn't make better with snarking or a crack troublemaking team. The only thing he could really do, he decided, was let her handle it in her own way, and come to him when he was needed.

* * *

Professor Black's classroom was… different, to say the least. It was circular, with the desks arranged in two lines near the back wall. The other side of the room contained only a chalkboard, the two-sided kind on a set of wheels, and a round golden dish sitting in the middle of the room. Black himself was nowhere to be seen.

Glancing at each other, the first year Gryffindors shuffled to the desks, all taking seats near their friends and shuffling them close together. Surprisingly, only half of the seats where filled up. Why quickly ceased to be a mystery as their Slytherin yearmates file in as well. The two groups took one look at each other and simultaneously groaned; despite only a week at Hogwarts, House rivalries had already taken root, and while hatred had yet to fester they still did not like each other.

The Slytherins sat, annoyed at having to share space with the Gryffindors, and everyone sat in silence, somewhat anxiously awaiting something to break the tension.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The entire collective class jumped at the booming voice behind them, which was followed by laughter and a rustling sound. Everyone's heads twisted around in an almost simultaneous motion to reveal Black pulling off some shimmering silvery cloth that camouflaged itself perfectly with the background, a great goofy grin on his face as he laughed at his students. "That never gets old," he chuckled. He walked around the desks, folding the shimmering cloth in his hands until it was too small to see before sticking it in his robe's inside pocket. He reached the bowl and turned around, still smiling good naturedly. A few Gryffindors tried to laugh along with him, Harry included, but all were still clearly spooked; Susan had gone pale as a sheet, while Ron quite clearly lost at least three years to fright. The Slytherins weren't in much better condition.

Black's smile never wavered. "My mentor in my early days as an Auror used to do that to me. He would pop out of absolutely nowhere, shouting CONSTANT VIGILANCE like no tomorrow, and then spent an hour lecturing me if I didn't hex him." He turned his head, beaming at all of his students, before his grin suddenly vanished, replaced by a hard stare. "The times are far safer now than back then, but it's an important principle that I want to impress upon you all. We live in a world where every child is given a weapon at the age of 11, and then trained with it for seven years. Wands out!" At this proclamation everybody complied instantly and without hesitation, some out of respect and others out of fear. "In a Muggle's hands, that's a stick. In yours, it is one of the deadliest instruments on the planet. My mentor is one of the most paranoid men alive. He saw a Dark Wizard out to get him behind every corner, sometimes literally." he allowed himself a slight grin at this. "I don't. I don't see people who want to cause harm. I see people who could if they wanted to. Every witch and wizard out there has the potential to kill a man within two months of attending this school, and my job is to teach you how to prevent that from happening." His grin turned feral. "So, let's get started, shall we?"

Any hurt feelings over Black's trick vanished when he immediately began teaching them magic, with the promise that books would be for homework and nothing but. He spent twenty minutes going over their first defensive spell, the Disarming Charm, which knocked any wand or weapon out of a person's hand. After personally checking over everyone's wand movements and grumbling about Flitwick wasting class time studying them instead of discussing spellwork itself, he then made what was to Harry's ears the greatest declaration in history.

"Alright, you've got the movements down, time to practice it on each other." His eyes twinkled at the sight of grins that shot across his students faces. "But, before you lot go loving me too much, ground rules. Stick to Disarming, avoid hitting anyone other than your partner… and your partner can't be in your House." Harry stared in confusion, and had a feeling he wasn't alone in that. "I've been teaching for six years now and if there's one thing I've discovered, it's that House rivalry provides perfect motivation. Merlin knows how much better I would have done if my Defense teachers had let me hex Slytherins to my heart's content." He chuckled, as did several Gryffindors, while the Slytherins among them just scowled. Black smirked at them. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I'll have you know that most of your House wanted to do the same to me. Alright now, partner up and have at you."

The students separated instantly into clusters by House, each eyeing the other side looking for an acceptable opponent. Some took immediate initiative, which was how little Lily Moon, younger than every other Gryffindor save Harry and smaller even than him, ended up strolling up to and challenging the hulking Gregory Goyle and earning the respect of everyone in the room for sheer moxie. Not to be outdone, others began doing the same.

Ron was quickly pulled away by Pansy Parkinson, whose eyes were alight with fire, while Susan and Millicent Bulstrode had somehow made a mutual decision to duel each other. This left Harry to scout out a decent challenge, as people paired off left and right and began attempting-and failing miserably-to disarm one another.

"Granger." A voice came from Harry's left and he turned to see a brunette he vaguely remembered as Daphne Greengrass fixing him a level stare. "Partners?"

"Er, sure, I guess," Harry shrugged. They moved to an empty stretch of the room, about two meters apart, and leveled their wands at each other. "Ladies first," he said, mock-bowing. The corners of her lips quivered slightly, as if attempting in vain to turn up-or down, but she had apparently set it in her mind to look bored and apathetic and so she remained.

"_Expelliarmus."_ Even her incantations came in a bored tone. Harry hadn't quite been expecting anything to happen, as the other students were all failing to pull anything off, so he was unprepared when he felt a sharp tugging on his wand. It pulled itself out from his light grip, but simply fell to the floor instead of flying away as it was supposed to. Black noticed nonetheless.

"Aha, our first victim. Good work Miss, Greengrass, is it? It didn't have much behind it, you can hardly expect that from a first casting, but thanks to Mister Granger's lack of preparedness you still succeeded. Ten points to Slytherin. And Granger?"

Harry blinked. "Yes Professor?"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Black grinned, and Harry could tell he didn't mean any offense by it, so he met it with his own. He bent down and picked up his wand, smirking at Greengrass as he brought it up to face her.

"Good show there."

"Hardly. It should have flown into my hand."

"You did better than everyone else. _Expelliarmus._" Greengrass's wand shifted in her hand, and she gave him a critical eye.

"Snap your wand a bit at the end of the flourish. It will put in more power to compensate for the lack of skill."

"Oi!"

"I'm doing the same Granger. _Expelliarmus._" Harry's wand bounced again, and he tightened his grip on it.

"Not so tight Granger," said Black, who chose that moment to pass by. "You can't cast holding your wand like that, and if you can't cast then you're as good as disarmed already. Brown, as funny as that is, I'm curious how you got 'cosmetics charms' from 'disarm only.'" And indeed, Tracey Davis was now sporting full clown makeup. Harry shrugged and turned back to Greengrass.

"So why partner with me anyway?" Harry asked. "_Expelliarmus._" This time he snapped his wand as she had instructed, and her wand slid upward without resistance from Greengrass's hand, though she did recover it before it was completely gone.

"Because if I have to duel a Gryffindor it might as well be the biggest Gryffindor, and anyone who would talk to Professor Snape like that is certainly brave and dumb enough to qualify. _Expelliarmus._"

"He insulted my sister. _Expelliarmus._ Didn't exactly leave the best impression." Greengrass sniffed.

"That may be true, but it was still a very Gryffindor course of action. A Slytherin would have remained silent and waited to strike. _Expelliarmus._ You, on the other hand, made an open enemy of a powerful wizard."

"I was never the sneaky one," Harry shrugged. "Back home I'm the one who does big, flashy things. I let my friends handle the sub_Expelliarmus!"_ He broke off in mid-word to cast the spell this time, catching Greengrass off-guard. Her wand jumped out of her hand and clattered to the floor and she gaped at him.

"Constant Vigilance," he smirked. He could almost make out a ghost of a smile on her face, and her eyes, which were practically twinkling as she picked her wand up, carried just one message: this means war.

* * *

The practical lesson continued for a good half an hour, and by the end of it almost everyone had gotten at least one solid hit on their opponent. Harry, for his part, had been Disarmed seven additional times, although his own score was a respectable five and he had resisted the effects of the charm many, many more times than that. Finally Black lifted his wand and let out a sharp crack, calling all of them to attention. He nodded towards the desks, which had been shoved aside for the lesson and were now realigning themselves.

"So, who here knows what an Auror is," he asked once they'd all re-seated themselves. Almost everyone raised their hands, save for Dean Thomas, a Muggle-born who unlike Harry did not have any aptitude for reading. "And who among you wants to be one when you grow up?" Susan's hand fell, as did half of the Gryffindors and most Slytherins. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, kept theirs up; the thought of catching Dark Wizards was just too cool. Black grinned, casting his eyes over them.

"My first year on the job, fresh out of the Auror Academy at age 20, had some of my favorite memories." He dipped his wand into the dish, and a slight glow cast out of it. An image of a snaggletoothed man rose up out of it, with a crooked nose and a snarl on his face. "This guy was a looter, tried to take advantage after Death Eater attacks to raid people's homes and steal their things. I caught him in the act, and, being fresh off the assembly line with no idea what to do with a non-hostile burglar, transfigured him into a pig while I waited for the hit-wizards to arrive. He apparently didn't stop oinking for three weeks after that." The class laughed, all remembering McGonagall's lectures on transfiguring humans and how it was so very very dangerous and therefore they were not to do it.

Black flourished his wand, and snaggletooth vanished, replaced by a man whose teeth were quite shiny and perfect, as was his immaculately coifed hair. "This joker was a former member of the Obliviation Squad I met while investigating reports of a banshee in Ireland. He claimed that he had defeated it personally, but when I tried to question his story, the idiot tried to Obliviate me. Turned out, he was going around finding small town heroes and using his Memory Charms to take credit for their deeds before they could. Fortunately, I threw up a Reflecting Shield and sent it back at him. He's now committed at St. Mungos, absolutely convinced that it's Tuesday every day and that the kidney pie is trying to eat him." More laughter filled the room this time, and didn't completely die down as Black kept his grin through the next one, a pudgy looking fellow with a rather rat-like face.

"Now this guy here, he used to be a decent fellow. Then he betrayed the Order of the Phoenix, was indirectly responsible for the deaths of dozens of good people through his spying, and was directly responsible for killing four of the most important people in my life, including the part of him I used to call one of my best friends. So I tracked him down and blasted his skull apart with a Reductor." The class had quieted about halfway through, and was now dead silent. Gone was the mirth in Black's face, a blank, almost dead expression in its place, as though he had just drudged up old memories that he'd have rather left buried. Black waved his wand, and now the dish held a black-robed figure with long hair.

"This man was a necromancer, who raised a small army of Inferi with the intention of swarming Great Britain with them. It took a team of five of the best, myself included, to stop them before they could take over the world without revealing the Magical world to the Muggles. I barely made it out of the fire we used to destroy them alive, and I came away with this." He yanked up the sleeve of his robe, revealing a large and nasty set of scars that suspiciously resembled teeth on his upper arm. He waved his wand again, and the image was replaced by an aristocratic looking woman with a feral glint in her eye.

"Bellatrix LeStrange, neé Black. My own cousin, a woman who was like a sister to me when we were children. Probably the most fanatical Death Eater alive. Those of you raised by wizards know her as the Black Witch. Yes, children, this is the bogey-woman your parents used to make you eat your vegetables. She sought me out, with the intention of killing me for being, and I quote, "a filthy blood traitor and a disgrace to the family of Black." What happened then was, if I do say so myself, the most epic duel since Dumbledore battled Grindlewald, and even though I won it ended up doubling my already significant scar collection and left me in a coma for two weeks. And believe me, she came off worse for it."

His wand waved one last time, and the glow disappeared, fading away into nothingness.

"I hope you realize why I showed you that. Being an Auror isn't fun and games. It's not running around being a superhero. You don't get to save everyone. You aren't invincible just because you've been trained for it. Dark Wizards are dangerous people. No, people is the wrong word. They aren't people, they're monsters. They abuse magic in a way that even the most ambitious and power-hungry Slytherin should rightfully balk at. I've seen the Imperius Curse used for things that would get me sacked for discussing with eleven year olds. I've fought evil that cannot be described with words. To be an Auror is noble beyond belief, but it comes with little recognition and untold peril. So I'll ask again; who wants to be an Auror when they grow up?"

There was silence, perfect silence, as no one dared even move.

"I thought so. Give it five years we'll see what you think then. Class dismissed."


	11. Erised

**Welcome to 2012 dear readers. Hope you're enjoying our last year on earth so far.**

It was inevitable, Harry thought, that he would eventually break the strict 8 PM curfew all firsties had. At first it was to work, sneaking away to the potions dungeon or the kitchens-which the Weasley twins helpfully pointed him towards-to slowly and steadily drive Snape insane. So far he thought he'd done swimmingly, using borrowed Potions from older students with a sense of humor (again, Fred and George were his largest benefactors) as well as the small stash of Muggle supplies he'd brought with him to great effect, to the point where Snape no longer came to the Great Hall for meals. The House Elves, who Harry learned were quite the lovely bunch when buttered up right, were delivering his meals personally, and rumor had it he was personally testing each bit of food for contamination.

Eventually, though, Harry's midnight kitchen operations turned into exploration missions, and these he invited Ron and Susan along on. Though Susan had taken a bit of convincing at first.

"What if we get caught," she had asked.

"We lose a few points and get sent back to bed," Harry had scoffed.

"But if we get lost…" Susan had offered feebly.

"What better way to learn how to get around the castle," Harry had countered.

Eventually she'd given in, and her reluctance had slowly, over the weeks, become enthusiasm. They now regularly snuck out of the common room, whenever they could get out before midnight, and spent hours prowling the halls identifying every landmark they could. Between that and the daily commute to classes, they could quite proudly say within a month that they knew their way around the castle perfectly… until October rolled around and found themselves not in the Charms classroom, but a broom closet. Lee Jordan told them later at lunch that the hallways' movements alternated every other month, except for February which had its very own pattern. Which only meant that the game began anew.

What was most surprising about the whole thing was how close he became with Ron and Susan as a result. Their sense of caution had quickly been abandoned after Ron got a tip from his brothers about the professor's patrol schedule, and most of their nightly walks were spent talking. He learned how Ron and his brothers had mostly raised each other and Ginny, the only sister, since their mother was at the restaurant all day, and how he'd spent hours in his dad's shed tinkering with the vast collection of Muggle junk in there. Susan told them about growing up as the daughter of what amounted to the British ambassador to Goblins. She spoke fluent Gobbledegook and knew more about Goblin culture than most adults. Harry's contribution was mainly to tell his very sheltered pureblood friends about the Muggle world, although he did go a bit into his friends and their various misadventures. He did his best to avoid them, though.

It wasn't that Harry didn't still care about his Muggle friends, far from it. He sent them letters along with his and Hermione's weeklies to their parents, unbeknownst to her, and they sent him their responses and it was all very wonderful. But every time he tried to tell Ron and Susan about them he kept drawing rather accurate comparisons; his band of friends with whom he got into mischief, breaking the rules and having a jolly good time about it. Their adventures weren't quite so targeted, but every time they discovered a new secret passage or ran from the unmistakable sound of billowing robes that always accompanied Snape, the excitement and laughter at the end of it reminded Harry far too much of his friends back home, and every time brought a slightly larger pang in his chest that he refused to identify.

If he were being perfectly honest with himself, Harry was a little homesick. But he had no intention of being honest with himself.

* * *

Harry rubbed a towel through his still-wet hair, not bothering to care if it was a little messier than usual as a result, with a wicked grin still on his face that matched his companions.

"I still can't believe," Susan was saying. "That we found the Hogwarts swimming pool." Her towel was wrapped around her body, while Ron had his slung over his shoulder. "People have been looking for it since it was lost in 1847."

"I still can't believe it had a Muggle hot tub setting," Ron chuckled. They came to a fork. "Which way, d'you think?" Harry rubbed his chin.

"What day is it?"

"Saturday."

"Sunday. It's after midnight," Susan supplied.

"Left then. See, there's Sir Cadogan." Harry pointed to the ridiculous knight who constantly challenged people to battle. Ron had once taken him up on the offer, but the poor painting had been unable to figure out how exactly they would go about it. Fortunately he was asleep at the moment, so he wouldn't make much noise. They turned the corner and tiptoed away, careful not to awaken the loudmouthed knight. Once they were out of earshot, Ron started bragging about his unquestioned victory in the diving contest they'd had with his masterful cannonball. Harry rolled his eyes very visibly, but Ron didn't stop until they turned into the Transfiguration corridor, where all three of them froze at the sight of a pair of large, glowing eyes.

Mrs. Norris, despised cat of the despicable Mr. Filch, was looking right at them.

Neither cat nor children moved for a moment. They stared at her, she stared at them. And then she turned her head up disdainfully and dashed away.

"… we should run now," Susan whispered. Everyone knew that when Mrs. Norris went to get Filch, he would be there within a minute. They turned on a dime and ran as fast as possible, Harry thanking whatever deities might be listening that the stone floor wasn't smooth enough to slip on. They wound down three different hallways, ran through an abandoned classroom that was on an entirely different floor on the other side, and eventually came to a gasping, wheezing stop somewhere near the History of Magic room.

"What… what the hell was she doing there?" Harry gasped. "Mrs. Norris patrols the fourth floor on Sunday mornings." Susan went pale.

"That _was_ the fourth floor."

"What? No. It should have been the fifth floor." Ron shook his head.

"No, I remember… Fred and George mentioned that everything always goes wobbly on the third Sunday in October."

"Let's just try to find something familiar and get back to the Common Room before Filch finds us again-"

"They're this way, my sweet." Filch's grating voice cut Susan off, and the trio blanched. "Look, they even left us a little trail. I'll be sure to double their punishment for the mess they've made!" They looked down in horror. Indeed, their still damp bodies had dripped behind them, leaving barely visible wet spots on the stone. It was only by merit of having personally scrubbed every stone by hand dozens of times that Filch could have seen them. At once they ran off again, this time fully cognizant that they were buying time.

After a few minutes of running through another twisty and winding path and Susan, in a moment of brilliance, swinging her hair, free from its normal plait, around and spattering water at a couple of crossroads to mask their scent, they were finally able to stop and use Ron's towel-Harry had dropped his when they ran into Mrs. Norris, and Susan's had come loose and fallen away in the chase, leaving her in just her modest Gryffindor swimsuit-to dry themselves as thoroughly as possible. Susan was just finished wringing her hair out when Filch's wheezing became audible again, and they ran for a third time.

* * *

Harry slammed the door shut behind them and pressed his back against it, panting. It had taken a bit longer to shake Filch as exhaustion started to kick in and overrule the adrenaline rush, but eventually they were far enough away to actually look for a hiding place. The classroom they'd chosen was tucked into a back corner behind an alcove, and it was only by luck that Harry had spotted it. It had also been locked, which is why it was lucky Susan knew an unlocking charm. Ron was bent over and breathing heavily while Susan had dropped into a chair, hands on her face.

"I knew this would happen eventually. I just knew it. I knew we'd eventually slip up and get caught," she babbled. "And now Filch is going to find us and we're going to get in trouble and Aunty will be so disappointed in me-"

"Susan, do us a favor and be quiet," Harry hissed. "And then maybe Filch _won't_ find us and everything will be fine." Susan shot him a look, but complied. Harry pressed his ear against the door and held in a breath. Soon enough the wheezing and heavy footsteps of the old caretaker came passing by, and stopped in the hall outside. Harry could swear he faintly heard a sniffing noise.

"They're nearby… I can smell their fear. Come, Mrs. Norris, this way!" And then the sound of his boots picked up again, away from their door. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"It's alright," he said once Filch had left earshot. "We're safe." The others mimicked his relaxation.

"Thank Merlin," Ron said. "That would have sucked. Even Snape's better than Filch." The trio shuddered in unison at the thought. Snape would have a snide remark and an inflated point drop, but at least detention with him was just cauldron scrubbing or the like. Filch was an absolute taskmaster. Harry himself had already polished all the silver in the Trophy Room five times, and that was just the one detention.

Their minds off of their far-too-long escape, Susan and Ron began trying to work out where they were, a difficult task as they had no clue where the various hallways and stairs were relative to each other. Harry just sank to the floor, catching his breath. Despite years of physical activity, he was completely unused to that kind of distance running, and he'd never had the best endurance anyway. Rather than help his mates with their rather futile task, he cast his gaze around the room. It was rather small, clearly an old classroom of some sort, with a large desk at the front and tables and chairs stacked on the side. The cupboards attached to the walls were reminiscent of the ones that McGonagall stored inanimate objects to Transfigure in.

The only thing that could be called prominent in the abandoned room was a large, ornate mirror in a rectangular wooden frame standing against the back wall, and even that was masked in shadow. It was, however, quite out-of-place, and thus kept Harry's attention. Cautiously, he pushed himself up, and took a few long steps until finally he was standing directly in front of it. It was full length, and from the distance Harry was looking it reflected most of the room around him, despite its relative thinness. He stared into it, certain that something was out of place even though nothing came to mind. The desk was not out of place. The reflection was not of the room in years past, with students in it. His reflection was not moving and speaking of its own accord, as magical mirrors were wont to do. It just showed him standing in front, and his five friends to the side-

Wait, five?

Harry started. The image of his friends off to the side discussing where they were did not consist just of Ron and Susan, but Devon, Eric and Maggy as well. They were right there with them in their own swimsuits, matching the Gryffindor colors of the trio-except for Mags, who was oddly enough in Hufflepuff-and joining in the discussion with their own lively and spirited contributions. He could practically see what they were saying on his friends' faces; Devon was giving the matter serious thought, Mags was trying to stay positive, and Eric was cracking jokes. And then they noticed him. Harry could only stare slack-jawed as his Muggle friends, grinning, left Susan and Ron behind and came up behind him. Mirror Harry, on the other hand, was actually reacting, grinning as Eric clapped him on the shoulder and Maggy grabbed his arm. The three playfully messed up his hair before turning and giving him, the real Harry, matching smirks and waves, as if to say "hey Har, told you we'd get here!" Unable to believe what he was seeing, Harry spun around.

No one was there.

Tentatively, Harry twisted his head back to the mirror, worried that his friends reflections would have also vanished and that it was some cruel prank. But they were still there, shaking their heads and laughing at him as if he'd been silly to believe they were real. He chuckled under his breath. Of course he'd been.

"Oi, Harry, what've you got there?" Harry jumped at the sound of Ron's voice. He'd almost forgotten for a moment that his other friends _were_ there. He looked over his shoulder to where Susan and Ron were staring at him.

"Guys, you've got to come see this. This mirror, it's got my friends from back home in it."

"Really?" Ron's eyebrow raised. "The ones you were telling us about?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Come over here and meet them." Ron and Susan looked at each other with an odd expression, but both slowly walked up to the mirror, standing beside Harry.

"Um… Harry, I don't see anything," Susan said, biting her lip.

"Yeah, mate, it's just the three of us." Harry stared at them.

"But… but they're right… here, look in it properly, where I'm standing." He grabbed Susan's shoulder and sidestepped, dragging her into position.

"Ow," she winced. "Harry, there's no need to be so… dear Merlin." Harry grinned.

"So you see them now?" But to his dismay, Susan shook her head.

"No, it's me and my Aunt Amelia. Except… except I'm older. I- I think I've just graduated DMLE training. She's congratulating me, and… and she looks proud of me." She stared at the mirror for a moment, before shaking her head. "Guys, I have the weirdest feeling about this thing. Like it's dangerous, or something." Harry scoffed.

"You worry too much Susan. C'mon Ron, let's see what it shows you then."

"Alright," Ron shrugged. "It'll probably just show me my Mum or something, if you lot are anything to go by." He stepped up to the mirror, and tilted his head. "Yep, there's Mum. 'cept she's not wearing her Molly's apron like usual. And there's all the siblings. Dunno why the Twins and Percy are there, I see them all the time. Oh, and there's-" he cut himself off before finishing. His face went white as a sheet. "D-dad?" There was silence. Harry and Susan didn't know quite how to respond to that. Ron stepped forward and brought a hand up to rest on the smooth, reflective glass. "Dad, is that you?"

"And this is the part where I step in." The trio jumped in unison, and spun around. There on the desk, shimmery Invisibility Cloak next to him, was Professor Black, a serious-pardon the pun-look on his face.

* * *

Black's office was normally warm and inviting. The walls were splashed a regal red and gold, hinting that the professor had been a Gryffindor in his school years. There were a few pictures hung on them, as well as an Order of Merlin, Third Class and a handful of other awards. A bookshelf in the back of the room held no books, but was instead filled with various knickknacks that whizzed and whirred around, few of which had obvious purpose. Another picture sat on Black's desk, facing towards the chair, but otherwise it was unadorned.

Harry had been here only once before, to ask Black for an extra day to finish a homework assignment, and had found it rather pleasant at the time. This time, though, despite being offered a seat and a cup of tea, the atmosphere of the room was far less friendly.

"So," he began. "You guys found the swimming pool." They stared at him, and then looked down, realizing, with some embarrassment, that they were still in nothing but swimsuits. He chuckled. "Let me guess, you're wondering why I'm not lecturing you for wandering the halls at night. I'll have you know that by the end of my first year I could navigate this castle at night, blindfolded and hopping on one foot. I couldn't care less about curfew. I do, however, care about my students." His eyes bored into them. "Do you know what it is you stumbled across tonight, children?"

"Er… a mirror, sir," Ron tried. Black let out a bark-like laugh.

"Fair answer, but I meant more specifically." When they didn't respond, he continued. "What you found is the Mirror of Erised, one of the most dangerous artifacts in existence. Which, by the way, is why the door was locked." Susan blushed at this.

"Sorry sir. But, er, there probably should have been a bit more if you didn't want first years getting in."

"Yes, well, it's the principle of the thing. Since you were running from Filch, though, I'll give you a pass." He winked, and suddenly it felt a little lighter. It was now finally clear that they weren't in trouble after all. "As I was saying. The Mirror of Erised, powerful artifact, very dangerous. Do you know why?" Harry had a pretty good idea, based on the look on Ron's face when he'd looked into it, but he kept quiet.

"The Mirror shows you nothing more or less the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart." Ron's gulp could practically be heard. "Which makes it a rather useful tool to some, actually. Most of us aren't capable of figuring out our greatest desire. The others, the more insignificant and flexible ones masking it. And as long as it's not something too unattainable, or desperate, it's perfectly fine to look into it. You for instance, Harry, saw your Muggle friends, who I'm guessing you must miss quite terribly." Harry blinked. Had Black been there that long?

"Er, yes sir. I love being here at Hogwarts, of course, and Ron and Susan are great friends." He looked from side to side at the two mentioned, reassuring them that they were still his best magical friends. "But sometimes I do wish they were here too."

"Of course you do," Black smiled. "They're your friends. If you didn't miss them it would mean you didn't care about them. And Susan," he turned to the girl in question, who was still red and a little nervous at having been caught. "You saw, if I'm not mistaking, yourself making your aunt proud of you." She nodded silently, and Black chuckled. "Don't worry so much Bones, I'm not going to tell her a word about this little escapade. But more to the point, you value her opinion more than anyone's, yeah?"

"Yes," she said quietly, a bit happier about the whole situation.

"So that's what you see, nothing more than pleasing her. Most people would love to see something so simple and honest." Black smiled at her. "But your wishes aren't entirely out of reach. You know you'll make Amelia proud one day, Susan, and Harry, you'll see your Muggle friends whenever you go home for the holidays. But a fair number of us would look in the mirror and see something that we can never have, especially after the war. Isn't that right, Ron?" All eyes turned towards Ron, who was staring at the ground.

"I saw my dad," he muttered. "And my mum didn't have to work every day and could stay home like she would rather, and everything was sunshine and rainbows. And I know damn well that that's not the way it is and never will be. You don't have to remind me." Black gave him a sympathetic look.

"Ron, I understand. Believe me, if there were anyone in this castle with a proper case for sympathy it would be me. But the point is that the Mirror doesn't reflect reality. You could stare at it all day, and it would be almost like your wish was true. And that's what makes the mirror dangerous. For people like you, and like me, it can get addictive. That's why I stepped in when I did, to keep you from getting to caught in the Mirror's spell." That last comment caught Harry's attention, and something occurred to him.

"Sir?" Black turned to look at him. "The door was closed the whole time… which means you were in there when we came in." A moment passed, and then Black laughed again.

"Thanks, Harry, for pointing that out. Now it'll seem hypocritical for me to ban you from going back." He shook his head and picked up the picture on his desk, turning it so they could see it properly. It was of four men surrounding a woman with red hair in a hospital bed. She held a baby in her arms. A lanky bespectacled man with hair similar to Harry's stood over the two, beaming with pride while a young Black slung an arm over his shoulders grinning like a madman. On the other side were the rat-faced man from Black's speech in their first Defense class, and a worn-out looking one who looked too tired to be as happy as he was.

"These are the people I see in the Mirror," Black said. "Of them me and Remus here," he tapped the tired looking one. "We're the only ones left alive. They were the only real family I had after I came to school. James here," this time he indicated the father. "He was like a brother to me. He gave me my invisibility Cloak because, as he put it, it had to stay in the family. And that, Ron, is why I say I understand. I go down there because the illusion of having them all back for a little while is better to me than not having them at all." Ron had nothing to say to that. He, at least, had the excuse of having lost his father young, and still having his siblings and mother. Black had lost almost everything.

"Ron," Black sighed. "If you want to come back and visit the Mirror again there's nothing I can do to stop you. All I can advise is that you be careful. As a wise old man once told me, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." Ron just nodded silently, staring contemplatively into space. "Now, I think I've kept you kids up late enough. I'll escort you back to Gryffindor Tower. You may want to put this on, though." Black picked up the Invisibility Cloak from his lap and tossed it at Harry. "It's big enough to cover all three of you. I'd rather not be caught walking around after hours with scantily clad first years, people might get the wrong idea." He grinned at them, and the trio returned it, though Ron's was weak.

The walk back to the Tower was silent. The Fat Lady was asleep when they got there, but Black said the password anyway and the door swung open-apparently a perk to being a professor. Harry, Ron and Susan slunk back into the Common Room and said their goodnights.

As he lay in bed, Harry thought about Black, losing the people he was closest to. The only family he had, he'd said. Harry tried picturing his parents dying, or Ron or Susan, any of his Muggle friends, but he really couldn't. There wasn't a single part of him that could imagine losing those most precious to him. He particularly couldn't imagine looking, say, Devon in the face and being able to kill him, as Black said he'd had to do to the rat-man, no matter what he might've done. And that James fellow had been a brother to Black. The very thought of losing Hermione sent shivers down his spine.

For some reason, though, the woman from the picture, the baby's mother, was the one that stuck out in his mind. He tried to think of why, exactly, since Black had said almost nothing about her, but the only thing he could come up with was that she'd had very nice eyes. Almost familiar, though for the life of him Harry couldn't quite place where he'd seen them before.


	12. Hermione and Malfoy

Time flew on after that fateful visit to the Mirror. Halloween came and went without much fanfare, other than a glorious feast the likes of which Harry had never seen before, even on their first night at Hogwarts. It had been a good night, full of pleasant conversation, delicious food, and a generally warm atmosphere broken only by the moment of silence taken across all of Britain for the Potter family. The weeks passed like a blur and it wasn't until someone asked Harry what he was getting for his parents for Christmas that he realized they were already in December. Only two things had changed in the month he'd barely notice go by.

The first was his skyrocketing marks in Defense. While he'd enjoyed the class from the very beginning and done reasonably well by his standards, it had always still been schoolwork to him, and as a rule Harry never pushed himself in schoolwork, lest he turn into Hermione. After his, Ron and Susan's long talk with Black, however, Harry gained a certain respect for the professor. He was reasonable, he was brilliant, and he knew how to crack a good joke. A side effect of this was Harry throwing himself into his Defense work because, quite honestly, he wanted to impress Black. Ron and Susan redoubled their efforts as well, but it was mostly to keep up with Harry, who was now consistently getting back homework and tests with bright red 99s and 100s circled in the corner. This stood in stunning contrast to his Charms and Transfiguration work, coming in at high seventies to low eighties, and his History and Potions, which rarely left the 60s.

The second, which wasn't quite as pleasant to write home about, was the steady change in Hermione. Harry still didn't see her much outside of meals, but this was part of the problem, as she wasn't showing up to many of them at all. She was rarely present at lunch, and occasionally skipped breakfast as well. On those days her attendance at dinner consisted of sitting at the Ravenclaw table, inhaling as much of the nearby food as possible, and then leaving once again. At first Harry thought she was just running off to the Library, but on one of his many rebuffed attempts at getting her to hang out with him and catch up-driven largely by guilt-he'd gone there during lunch and couldn't find her.

It wasn't just her mysterious disappearances, either. Her letters back home, according to Mum and Dad, were getting shorter and vaguer by the week. Whenever she did come to a meal she talked to no one, just stared at her plate and ate. Worst of all, probably, was her appearance.

Harry was currently studying her as covertly as possible across the Hufflepuff table as she ate pancakes and apples, oblivious to his gaze. Her face looked tired and pale, even from where he was. The area under her eyes was dark, and her skin looked pale. Harry doubted she'd gone outside since arriving at Hogwarts. She didn't seem unhealthy, per se, but there was just something off every time Harry looked at her. What had begun as mild concern that first Friday was rapidly growing, and he immediately quit the "let it work itself out" approach. As soon as Hermione left the table Harry stood, drawing a questioning look from his friends that went ignored. It was investigation time.

It was not unheard of for students to sit at other House tables, but it was uncommon, normally only happening when a student wanted to sit with a family member or found themselves unwelcome in their own House. Harry did not care. He immediately sought out Padma Patil, the only familiar face and then only by merit of having the same face as her twin Parvati, in Harry's house and year. He pulled out a chair, which the Ravenclaws and Slytherins both preferred to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff's picnic benches, and sat down next to her, drawing odd looks from everyone in the vicinity. Padma herself looked a bit surprised.

"Er… hi." The confidence Harry had had coming up there fell away in an instant when he realized he had no idea what to ask. Padma was similarly flustered.

"… hi? Uh… it's Harry, right?"

"You know me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Parvati mentioned you," Padma shrugged. Harry felt a bit of shame at that, since Padma and Parvati were in a similar situation to him and Hermione, divided by House, and still talked enough to recognize each other's casual acquaintances.

"Yeah… so, uh, you're Hermione's roommate, yeah?" Something Harry couldn't identify flickered across Padma's face.

"Yes. Why?"

"I was just wondering if you've, you know, noticed anything odd about her lately?" Padma snorted.

"Lately? She's been odd from day one." She shook her head and turned back to her eggs. "Look, no offense Harry, Parvati says you're a pretty cool guy, but your sister's kind of a freak."

"… excuse me?" Harry's eyes narrowed, and Theo Nott at the neighboring Slytherin table wondered why his back was suddenly cold. Padma's face became a few shades lighter under the glare being pointed at her.

"Well-er, what I mean is, uh-," she stammered out.

"What she means," a voice from her other side said. "Is that from the first night here your sister has done nothing but study, and spent all the first week chewing us out if we spent more than five minutes talking about anything interesting that wasn't coursework." Harry vaguely recognized the girl as Lisa Turpin, who was matching his glare with an expression of annoyance.

"… I see," he said coldly. "And how, exactly, did you respond?"

"How do you think?" Lisa shot back. Harry's fingers twitched toward his pocket, where his wand was.

"It wasn't anything bad," Padma blurted out in an attempt to pacify him. "We just tried to get her to lay off, loosen up a bit. We stopped when she stopped, a few days after school started, and we've barely spoken to each other since. It's all been very civil, I swear." Harry was silent for a moment, before turning to the rest of the nearby Ravenclaws, who were all watching the exchange with interest.

"Has no one here noticed my sister acting different than normal lately, or doing anything actually unusual," he asked in a loud voice. He was met with silence. "Alright then. I'm going. I just hope for your sakes that when I find out what's wrong with Hermione, none of you had anything to do with it. You can ask anyone at our old primary school: nobody messes with my sister and gets away with it." Harry stood and turned to walk away.

"She's been sneaking out."

Harry spun around to face the new speaker. It was Draco Malfoy. He wasn't even looking up, paying attention only to his eggs. The only reason Harry had any clue it had been him was the looks of contempt he was drawing for even daring to speak.

"What did you just say?"

"Your sister. I've seen her sneaking out in the middle of the night a few times, when everyone else was in bed. I'm pretty sure she never noticed me."

Middle of the night. Past curfew. Hermione was breaking curfew. Hermione was breaking the _rules._

Harry shot from concerned past worried and well into "panic now" territory.

"Malfoy, come with me, right now." His tone was forceful and commanding and completely unfamiliar, but it seemed to work somewhat as Malfoy shrugged and stood.

"Better than hanging around here."

Harry led Malfoy to an old classroom in the Charms corridor that he liked to use with Ron, Susan and occasionally the Weasley twins when they needed to talk privately. As soon as he closed the door behind them Harry stared talking.

"I need to know everything you know." Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"That could take a while, Granger. Shall we begin with the expansion of Roman wizards into the British Isles?"

"Not funny Malfoy," Harry glared. "My sister knowingly broke a rule. I don't think you have the faintest clue exactly how very _wrong_ that is."

"Actually I kind of do," Malfoy shrugged. "I saw her tear a couple of sixth year Gryffindors a new one the night after the Welcome Feast just for running in the halls. But I really don't know much more than I told you already, Granger. I like to wait until really late at night to do my homework so I don't have all of Ravenclaw sneering at me because of who my father is. Occasionally I see her leaving our Tower in the early morning, and she's never back by the time I go to bed. I don't think she notices me there." Harry paced all through this.

"How often?"

"You ever notice how she misses breakfast sometimes? I'm pretty sure she's sleeping in after being out so late." That explained why she looked so exhausted.

"And when was the first time you saw her?" Harry pressed.

"Middle of September. I think it was the third week or something."

Harry wasn't certain why he had even asked that. He knew extremely little of what Hermione had been up to since coming to Hogwarts. In fact he'd learned more about her this morning than he had in three months, which he would feel bad about when he didn't have more pressing concerns to deal with. Now, at least, he knew that whatever started it had been in the first three weeks of school. Actually, if it was that early, it was likely in the first, and their "talk" after his first Potions lesson had been an early sign. Then something occurred to Harry.

"Wait, why did you notice that she's been missing breakfast," he asked curiously. Malfoy lost his cool for a moment, and he looked almost embarrassed.

"We talked a bit early in the year. Her roommates hated her and mine hated me. Outcasts have to stick together. Anyway we got on pretty decently, but she just started ignoring me one day, a little before she started her midnight walkabouts. I figured someone got to her and told her about some of the things my father did."

"No," Harry shook his head. "Hermione wouldn't judge you because your dad's a jackass."

"He _is_ still my father, you know," Malfoy mumbled. "Anyway she was pretty much the only person here who's been nice to me, so I paid attention."

"Er… alright then." Harry really didn't know what to say to that. Really, what _do_ you tell a pariah? "Okay… Malfoy, I need you to help me out here. Next time you-" before Harry clarify what exactly he wanted Malfoy to do, the door slammed open and Ron burst through.

"Stop right there, Malfoy," he bellowed, brandishing his wand in a manner that would be menacing if he knew more than Disarming and a Tickling Hex. He stopped short when he saw that Harry and Malfoy were on opposite sides of the room with their own wands tucked away out of sight. Susan walked in after him, palming her face.

"I told you," she muttered. "Did I not tell you? Didn't I say that Harry knew what he was doing? That he was leading Malfoy away and not the other way around?" Harry rolled his eyes as Ron spluttered.

"But-but he's a Malfoy! What are you doing Harry!"

"I'm standing right here you know," Malfoy drawled.

"Quiet you," Ron snapped.

"Chill, Ron," Harry said. "Malfoy knew something about why Hermione was acting weird, and I brought him here to talk. He's been decent enough."

"I-Harry, his father-"

"Is an entirely separate person," Malfoy finished. His nose wrinkled and the mask of calm on his face faded into one of annoyance. "Now, Granger, could you please tell me what you want me to do so I can get to class?" Harry shook his head at Ron, whose mouth was agape.

"Next time you see her leaving your Common Room in the middle of the night, talk to her. I know Hermione well enough to know that if she could even possibly be implicated in a rule-breaking she'll go motormouthy, even if she's been ignoring you. Try to figure out what's been going on with her."

"And if she doesn't tell me?"

"That's a big if for Hermione. But if she doesn't…" Harry thought for a moment. "Could you follow her? Like, quietly? It'd help to know where she's going."

"You're asking a pretty big favor, Granger." Malfoy leaned back. "I mean, if you get caught wandering after hours you get a detention. If she gets caught she might lose a few points and sent back to her room. The son of Lucius Malfoy? Why, they'll assume I'm plotting a murder or some nonsense like that."

"Right, nonsense," Ron muttered from the corner he'd slumped down in. He went ignored.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Harry said. "Name your price." Malfoy shook his head.

"No price for now. Just consider yourself in my debt for now."

"Deal," Harry said without hesitation. Nearby Ron squawked.

**Short chapter, but that was the right place to end it. **


	13. Christmas in Ashford

"I don't trust him," Ron said.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Harry retorted around a piece of beef. Indeed, Ron had made this exact statement forty-seven times over the past week, with the same tone and inflection. Susan had raised the same sentiment, but it had only been once, and she had dropped the matter as soon as Harry asked her to. He glanced at Malfoy, who was facing him perfectly. Malfoy met his eyes and slowly shook his head, as he had every day thus far. Hermione hadn't yet gone for another midnight stroll.

He knew that jumping to be in Malfoy's debt without thinking was dangerous… well he knew it now anyway. Ron had given Harry several dozen horror stories about magical debts where one side went back on it and suffered terrible consequences. Of course, after being pressed he'd admitted that they were all myth, but he'd later gotten a more realistic account from Susan.

"Harry, I don't know how Muggles do it, but we take debt very seriously in the magical world," she'd told him the night of his conversation with Malfoy. "Welching is pretty much the only legal grounds left to challenge someone to a formal duel. They aren't binding or anything, but if Malfoy fills his end and you don't fill yours, he could... well, not him, since everyone hates him and probably wouldn't believe him, but anyone else would just have to tell people and you'd look really, really bad. And the way he put it he'd probably consider just about anything to be a fair deal."

So yeah, it wasn't his brightest idea by far, but even if he'd known how big it was to owe a wizard he'd still have done it, because it was his sister's wellbeing at stake. As time went on, though, it was quickly becoming apparent that they wouldn't have an answer before the Christmas holiday. It had been surprising to learn that wizards celebrated the holiday, but it turned out that the wizarding world was, like the Muggle world, predominantly Christian. Hogwarts itself was multi-faith-the Patil twins were practicing Muslims, Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw was Jewish, and Lily Moon, Japanese on her mother's side, was Shinto.

Religious leanings aside, literally everyone in the wizarding world celebrated Christmas, and had ever since it took over for the Solstice as the mid-year celebration. Very few students ever stayed at Hogwarts over the break, and indeed when McGonagall brought it around later that same breakfast for a last sweep two weeks before they were to leave there were only a few people on it.

A far bigger surprise came then as well, because when Harry had glanced curiously at the list, he'd seen all three of the Gryffindor Weasleys' names on it.

"We always stay back," Ron said when asked about it. He seemed rather nonchalant about the whole thing. "It's that or spend the week at Great Aunt Muriel's. Mum doesn't like being at home at Christmas, reminds her too much of Dad." Harry paused thoughtfully, the cogs in his head turning. As luck would have it, the obvious idea struck him just as Owl Post arrived. Hedwig, already returned from her last mail run home, came soaring in with the rest of the owls. She dipped down as she did and stopped first at Hermione's seat, perching on the back of her chair as she always did when the elder Granger was present. Hermione gave a small smile and reached up to pet Hedwig before offering her some tea, graciously accepted. Having had her fill of drink, Hedwig came to Harry for her daily bacon. Harry grinned and stroked Hedwig's feathers.

"Hey girl," he said, tossing the bacon up for her to snatch out of the air. "Hang around for a moment, I've got a job for you." He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a scrap of spare parchment, scribbling out a note and handing it to her. "Take a quick fly back home and drop this off with the parents, and wait for a reply. Got it Hed?" Hedwig gave him her signature "I graduated top of my class at the Post Owl Academy, you loveable twit" look and took off like a flash. Susan watched her go with a puzzled expression.

"What was that about?" She asked. Ron looked curious too. Harry grinned wryly as he stood up.

"Follow me to the Owlery and you'll see. Not you, Ron," he added when Ron made to stand as well. "I don't want to spoil it for you." He winked and walked off, Susan trailing behind him.

Three days later, two letters were dropped in unison in front of Harry and Ron, the former's on paper and the latter's on parchment. Harry tore the envelope open and scanned through, grinning.

_Harry,_

_Of course your friend can stay for the holidays. Really, we're glad you asked instead of just bringing him along, we know you'd have gotten a good laugh out of that. Let your sister know that if she wants to bring a friend she can too. We'll see you in a week._

_Mum and Dad._

Damn, that hadn't even occurred to Harry. He'd have saved himself a trip to the Owlery as well.

"Harry? What's this all about," Ron asked. Harry smirked at him, and he looked at his letter again. "_Your friend Harry wrote me asking if you could stay at his house for the holidays. From your letters he sounds like a nice young man, and I think it might do you good to spend some time in the Muggle world, so if you'd like you absolutely can. Ginny, Great-Aunt Muriel and I will miss you this Christmas, but you probably would have stayed at Hogwarts with the rest of the boys anyway. Love, Mum._"

"She thinks Harry's a nice young man? Shame on you, Ronald, telling your mother such blatant lies," Susan teased. Harry snickered.

"I figured since you're so fascinated with the Muggle world you might like spending the week there. I invited Susan too but she's going home like a normal person." He nudged Ron in the ribs good naturedly. Ron just stared slack-jawed for a moment before throwing an arm around Harry's should and squeezing it in a manly hug.

"You're a good friend, Harry."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

The train ride back to London was quite a bit like the one to Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Susan managed to find the same compartment along with Hermione, Neville, and Justin Finch-Fletchly, Neville's best friend from Hufflepuff. They talked and laughed voraciously, playing wizard's chess (which Ron was the undisputed king of in Gryffindor house) and Exploding Snap. Hermione sat in a corner with a book again, this time from her small library of Muggle literature, but Harry caught her lips quirking occasionally at the group's shenanigans.

All too soon, though, the train pulled into the station and everyone filed off. Harry, Ron and Hermione said their goodbyes to Susan, Neville and Justin as soon as they were off the train, as the Grangers were picking them up outside the Platform. They patiently waited their turn in the queue set up to keep everyone from conspicuously coming through a solid wall at once, and eventually pushed their trolleys through and onto the crowded platform. Mum and Dad spotted them from a nearby bench and waved them over.

"Harry, Hermione," Mum said warmly as she stood, her arms spreading wide to engulf the both of them in a tight hug. "I've missed you so very much."

"You'll miss us more if we choke to death, Mum," Harry joked. She lightly swatted the top of his head and chuckled. Dad stood too then, and pulled Hermione into his own fatherly embrace. He looked at Harry and gave him a grin, which was returned. They were men, and there was no need for men to hug at a time like this. Harry was relieved to see Hermione actually smile, the first he'd seen from her in quite a while.

"And you must be Ron," Mum smiled kindly. Ron needed.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger," he said, offering a hand to shake.

"So polite. Harry could learn a thing or two from you."

"Oi!"

The familiar banter with his family picked up as if he'd never left, although Hermione didn't join in like she normally did, instead just walking along with the faintest of smiles. Ron managed to fit in very nicely, getting his own quips in-all at Harry's expense, of course-but at the same time he was quite obviously the stranger in a strange land. Every five minutes or so he'd ask a question about a street lamp or a newspaper box, and once, when Dad insisted on taking a shortcut through a seedier side-street to save time on the drive to Ashford, a prostitute.

The big topic, of course, was the car. By the time they pulled into the driveway, even Harry knew more about cars than he did before, thanks to his mother's surprising depth of knowledge.

It was late when they got home-the train hadn't arrived at King's Cross until around seven, and they'd stopped for dinner on the way-so as soon as the trunks were carried inside Harry, Ron and Hermione were sent to bed. Rather than set Ron up in the guest bedroom as they'd originally suggested in the car, Mum and Dad agreed to get out a number of sleeping bags and create a makeshift bed on Harry's floor that turned out to be much more comfortable than the mattress in there, specially selected to accommodate Aunt Violet's bad back and far more firm than the average person could stand.

Ron yawned widely as soon as the parents were gone and started moving towards his comfy sleeping bags, but Harry smirked and grabbed his shoulder.

"Night's not over yet, mate."

"What?" Ron blinked. "But your parents said-"

"What, you thought sneaking out was a new habit reserved for Hogwarts?" Ron stared at him for a moment before grinning.

"What's our escape route, then?"

Rather than answer, Harry popped the lock on the window and grabbed the sill. Despite four months without practise, it was still effortless for him to swing out, plant his feet in the depression of mortar where brick met brick, and drop the short distance to the ground, landing flawlessly in the thin layer of snow that encompassed the yard. Ron was staring out the open window, staring down at him wide-mouthed. Harry looked back up at him.

"Just hang from the sill, drop straight down, and land on the balls of your feet and not the flat. You'll be fine." He visibly gulped, but did it anyway, clumsily copying Harry's masterful performance. He staggered as he hit the ground, causing Harry to give a mocking applause.

"Not bad, but I'm gonna have to take points off for not sticking the landing." Ron just stuck his tongue out, and they got to walking. Every few minutes Ron would ask where, exactly, they were going, but Harry just kept silent, a smile on his face as he took in the familiar sights. The park where he and his friends had spent so many hours playing, plotting and creating chaos. And his primary school, an old building full of old people who had, through really no fault of their own, failed miserably to prepare Harry for the rest of his life. Of course, how were they to know that the rest of his life would include brewing magical potions and waving a stick to make things happen? For half an hour he and Ron just walked aimlessly around the suburban area he'd grown up in. Every time something of sentimental value came up Harry pointed it out to Ron, but this bit was mostly for his own sake. He'd refused to admit it at school, but he'd missed this place. Hogwarts was the ultimate home away from home, but it still wasn't his home.

Finally, Harry got bored of their wanderings, and also started to feel bad about dragging Ron around in the cold. So instead he set their path toward their final destination. It was only a few minutes away, in any case.

The house they came to was nowhere near as modest as Harry's was. Three stories high, painted a pristine white with a massive back yard that made Mum's well-tended garden look pale and lifeless. Harry wasn't interested in any of that, though, he'd seen it a million times. His goal was, instead, a large oak tree very close to the side. He smirked as he came up to it, and took off at a run, ignoring Ron's quiet yelp of surprise. The tree was bypassed entirely in favor of the wall of the house itself. Without much further ado, he rushed up it, his momentum carrying him up a good foot before he pushed off backwards. His arms swung behind him and up, hooking deftly onto the lowest branch, just beyond his reach without that jump. It was a move he was extremely familiar with, one perfected over the course of a year to the point where it was all muscle memory. He could literally do it in his sleep. He used the height from his jump-turned-swing to bring his foot onto the tree limb and pull himself onto it, balancing carefully in the center before looking down at Ron, who gawped at him.

"How did you _do_ that," he whispered loudly.

"Lots of practise mate. Lots of practise. C'mon." Harry reached an arm down, and Ron, much taller and longer than Harry, was able to easily reach it. Harry pulled, and Ron jumped at the same moment, allowing him to grab onto the branch and pull himself up as well. He then followed as Harry navigated the branches all the way up to the third floor, where one branch came conveniently across a window that was open despite the winter freeze. Inside where three very familiar faces.

"Harry!" Devon, Eric and Maggy all exclaimed at precisely the same moment. Harry just grinned and cocked his head, taking the final jump into Devon's bedroom.

"Who were you expecting, John Major?"

"Who the bloody hell is John Major," Ron asked as he too leapt into the room, fear of heights eliminated from years of broomstick riding. Harry just smirked and shook his head.

"Guys, this is Ron Weasley,"

"The hell with Ron Weasley," Maggy half-shouted, earning a chorus of shushes as she ran over and tackled Harry in a hug. A moment later she realized what she'd just said and had the decency to blush. "Er, no offense," she said to Ron. Ron shrugged.

"None taken… I think." Harry laughed.

"Ron, these are my friends I was telling you about. Devon-" Devon waved. "Eric-" Eric did the same. "And the one attached to my waist is Maggy." Maggy punched Harry lightly in the arm and let go, backing away to smile at Ron.

"It's nice to meet you Ron," she said sincerely, clearly attempting to make up for her rudeness.

"So you're the famous Ron Weasley, then?" Eric raised an eyebrow and turned on his "menacing" face. Ron nodded, his face displaying clear confusion. "The one that thinks he can take our places as Harry's best friends?" He stood up from his chair and strode forward. Ron was easily the tallest boy amongst the first year Hogwarts students, but Eric had a good few inches on him, which added to his threatening demeanor as he basically got in Ron's face. Ron gulped. Eric stared him in the eye for a moment, before turning his menacing stare into a casual grin. "Well too bad, mate, you're just gonna have to share him." There was laughter all around a Ron blinked and realized he'd just been had. Eric threw an arm around his shoulder and chuckled. "Nah, you're alright Weasley. Harry needs someone to get into hijinks with him when we're not around anyway."

There was another round of laughter and Harry took his usual spot during the group sleepovers on the edge of Devon's desk. Ron, not knowing where to go, just stood next to him, eventually leaning against the wall as if he'd totally meant to do that instead of standing around like an idiot.

"Alright," Devon said, settling back on the bed. "So you need to tell us about Hogwarts. Like, in detail. Your letters kind of suck there."

"It can't be too thick or Hermione would get suspicious," Harry protested. "Although lately I don't think she'd notice… whatever. So the classes are awesome, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Black's been teaching us some really wicked spells, and-"

"Harry!" Ron hissed. Harry blinked at him, before realizing what was wrong.

"I never mentioned to you, did I? They know about magic." Ron's jaw fell.

"They what?" Harry shrugged.

"It was kind of an accident, but I wouldn't have kept it from them anyway."

"Don't worry, mate," Eric assured Ron. "We're all masters of discretion."

"I would have told you," Harry continued. "But I didn't want to do it where anyone could hear. And I don't know how Susan would react, anyway, with her aunt and all." Ron just shook his head.

"Whatever mate. If you trust them I will too." A wry grin appeared on his face. "So I guess this means we get to tell them all about Snape?" Harry's face turned positively evil.

"Badmouthing the git where he can't catch us and dock points? Why Ronald, that would just be mean."

So of course they did.

* * *

Harry was awoken quite rudely three days later by a pillow to the face and the blurry form of Ron standing over him. He grumbled into his blanket and rolled over.

"C'mon, mate, wake up! It's Christmas!" That got Harry's attention. Immediately he snapped to attention, bouncing out of bed and grabbing the small case on his nightstand. As soon as his contacts were in he and Ron burst down the hall, down the stairs, and into the living room, where Mum was already sitting with a book in her lap, obviously waiting there to keep them from tearing into the tree before everyone was up. She smiled up at them.

"Good morning boys. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas Mum," Harry grinned, flopping onto the couch. Ron repeated the sentiment and action, staring at the pile under the tree with an unmatched hunger, even though he knew the vast majority were not for him. Although there had been no presents from Father Christmas since Hermione had proven, scientifically and in front of the entire family, that he could not possibly exist when Harry was eight, there was still a large pile that hadn't been there the night before off to the side of the tree. Harry looked at it questioningly, which Mum caught.

"Oh, those are from your school friends and Ron's mother. A man came through the fireplace to deliver them at around three, said he was from Saint Nicholas Christmas Deliveries. Gave me quite the start, he did." Ron laughed.

"Everyone uses it. Guess you know the truth now, Father Christmas is just a nice old man carrying on the family business."

"Certainly seems more convenient than dropping them off at the Post Office and hoping they arrive on time," Mum commented.

They made small talk for about an hour-it was quite early by most people's standards-before Hermione and Dad finally came downstairs and took their own seats, allowing the present opening to begin. Harry and Ron tore into theirs with gusto, to Mum and Dad's amusement. Eventually they both had nice, decent sized piles next to them. Ron's were mostly from his brothers; flying gloves from Charlie, a stone scarab from Bill that came to life for a minute when touched the right way, and a case of wizard pranking essentials and a box of chocolates from the twins. Harry had gotten the same from them, and the two agreed to leave the chocolates until they could be tested properly. Percy's gift was only a note, but was the best received by far, due to what it said.

"_This note entitles one Ronald BiliusWeasley to one night of homework assistance and exam preparation from one Percival Ignatius Weasley at some point during the remainder of the 1991-1992 Hogwarts School Year, redeemable at any point during that time. Non-transferable, good for one use only."_

"I'm so passing the History exam now," Ron said happily. Harry snorted. His gifts were weren't quite as good as Ron's, due to his parents lack of access to the magical world and the worthlessness of Muggle electronics at Hogwarts. It was mostly new clothes, although they were rather welcome. His new wool jacket would certainly be warmer than his cloak in the Scottish winter, and all three sweaters displayed some kind of clever Muggle pop culture reference that would throw the Purebloods of Hogwarts for a loop. There was also the collected edition of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, his favourite series, consisting of all four books in the trilogy (Ron, sadly, did not get the joke). Most amusing was Aunt Violet's gift, the Nintendo Gameboy that had been released last year. Harry remembered fondly his incessant whinging for one all the way up until that Christmas, when he did not get one-too expensive, according to his parents-and the irony of pointless it was now that he actually had one was not beyond him. Still, it would provide some entertainment over the holidays.

Hermione also had a large pile of presents growing near her, but it was almost exclusively books, including from one from Harry that he'd Owl-Ordered from Flourish and Blotts on basic Arithmancy that he figured she'd like. The only non-books there were a box of Sugarless Sugar-Quills from Ron, who had sent his brothers for them on realizing it would be rude not to get her anything while staying at her house, and a pretty blouse from Aunt Violet, who remained in denial that her only niece wasn't a girly-girl.

Eventually the present pile dwindled down. Once the final gifts, from Mrs. Weasley-hand-knit Christmas sweaters for everybody and a tin of fudge, presumably as a thank you for hosting Ron-were opened, everyone just sort of sat back and enjoyed their presents. Hermione dived straight into one of her new books. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet and absent-minded all holiday, which had worried Mum and Dad at first until Harry assured them he was handling it, but seemed much better today. Obviously a Christmas thing. Meanwhile, Harry and Ron's attention was solely devoted to the Gameboy, as Harry played and Ron watched, puzzling over both how it worked and why the Italian plumber was so violent to turtles. Dad was sitting cozily in an armchair with Harry's present, a collection of the few Agatha Christie stories he'd never read. Of course, few Muggles had. Not many of them could know, after all, that she'd published several through Flourish and Blott's after her marriage to the magical archeologist Max Mallowan. Meanwhile, Mum was experimentally trying some of Hermione's Bertie Bott's Beans, and had so far been lucky enough not to get anything too bad. Then she cringed.

"What'd you get, Mum?" Harry grinned. Mum made a sour face.

"Defeat."

"Wow. When they say every flavour, they mean _every_ flavour."

"I think I'm quite done with these for now," Mum chuckled, putting the bag to the side. "Harry, could you be a dear and bring yours and your sister's new clothes upstairs? You don't have to put them away, just drop them on your beds. " Harry gave a melodramatic sigh.

"I _suppose._ Ron, save the princess for me?"

"Will do," Ron saluted. Harry handed off the Gameboy and started picking up the

Harry stopped off in Hermione's room first, and resisted the urge to snoop for evidence. His one rule about messing with Hermione was to respect her privacy, and he wasn't going to break it unless his current plan fell through. Instead he continued on to his own and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the small, rectangular package sitting on the bed wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string. He set his clothes down next to it and picked it up, pulling the card out from the string.

_Granger,_ it read.

_Keep this mirror on you at night. If it vibrates, answer. It will allow you to hear everything around me. If it arrives at Christmas that's a coincidence. This is a loan, not a gift, and I expect it back after this whole mystery is solved._

_Draco Malfoy._

Well, that simplified quite a bit. He tore away the paper to reveal that it was, in fact, a well-polished little pocket mirror. Harry pocketed it and turned to head back downstairs. When he got down Ron was moving his fingers like a blur over the controls of the Gameboy.

"Save the princess yet mate?" Ron shook his head.

"Turned out she was in another castle."

**I fought not to make that reference. I lost badly.**


	14. Wands at Midnight

**So I'm not going to apologize for taking so long to update. College is kinda more important than a fanfiction hobby. That said, a new chapter has been quite overdue, so here you go. **

**Edit: Added a little portion to the end. I feel justified in doing so because I only just did the update.  
**

"_Locomotor Mortis!_" Harry's ankles snapped together and his balance was lost before he even realised what was happening. He fell to the floor with a thump, his wand flying from his hand on the impact. He squirmed for a few moments before Greengrass performed the counterjinx and stood over him, frowning.

"Pay better attention Granger. You're off your game today and it's making my practise subpar." She held out a hand, and Harry grabbed it and allowed her to help him up before she returned to her position across from him. He picked up his wand and breathed out. Greengrass was, of course, right. Harry was distracted. Hermione had missed breakfast on the first morning back; Malfoy told him the next day that without any homework left to finish and feeling exhausted from a long day he'd turned in early, not expecting her to do anything so early in the term. That meant it was another waiting game, possibly as long as the last. Regardless, he raised his wand again.

Harry and Greengrass had developed an interesting relationship over the few months they'd spent at Hogwarts. They sparred against each other every practical Defense lesson, quickly rising into position as the most skilled in the class. A rivalry had developed between them, that much was clear, but it was remarkably amicable for being between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. It could almost be called friendly. Despite this Harry still didn't have a good read on her. Greengrass was skillfully stoic, displaying emotion rarely and usually when she was displeased, as she was now.

"_Petrificus totalus!"_ Harry hit the ground again, this time his whole body stiff as a board. Black waved his wand as he passed around on his rounds, countering the body bind, without much comment. He'd been rather tired himself since the beginning of term, and had often been caught sneaking naps at meal times. Greengrass shook her head.

"Really Granger, I'm better than you on your best of days but this is just pathetic." Harry's cheeks burned as he stood.

"You're not better than me Greengrass. _Locomotor Mortis._" As if to illustrate her point, Greengrass easily sidestepped his attack, letting it whizz by her and strike the wall.

"You were saying."

"If it weren't so limited I'd take you down easily." Black, as a rule, only allowed them to use the spells they were learning that day in their mock duels, though he promised a proper tournament near the end of the year. For Harry, who had taken the time to read ahead in the textbook and master a good number of spells ahead of time, it was rather frustrating. Greengrass raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds almost like a challenge."

"Maybe it is." Greengrass didn't respond to this, instead firing off a volley of Body Binds and Leg Lockers that Harry bounced away from, newly invigorated.

Class ended fifteen minutes later with Black assigning them a foot of parchment on the practical applications of immobilizing spells. Harry, Ron and Susan went to grab their bags together, and then left. As soon as they were out the door, though, they were joined by an unexpected fourth.

"Were you serious before, Granger?" Harry jumped as Greengrass came up behind them, her expression remarkably interested by her standards. She had never said so much as a word to him outside of Defense, even in Potions where they sat across the aisle from each other.

"Er… what about?"

"Your challenge. Were you serious?" Ron and Susan stared at Harry curiously. Harry coughed, his fire from before gone.

"I suppose I was, yeah."

"Good. Meet me in the Training Room at midnight, and bring your second. I've been looking for a real challenge." And without so much as another word she walked away, leaving Harry dumbfounded. Ron and Susan just watched her leave, confused.

"Harry…" Ron said slowly. "What just happened?"

"I think," Harry replied, sweating nervously. "I think I just challenged Daphne Greengrass to a duel."

* * *

Harry was reluctant to leave the dorm that night, and had been since term started. Being preoccupied would make it extremely difficult to answer if Malfoy's mirror went off, and there was little more distracting than a duel. Regardless, he pocketed it and slipped down the stairs, Ron in tow. Susan was waiting for them in the Common Room. Both of them had tried vigorously to talk Harry out of going to the duel, citing, respectively, Slytherin trickery and the rules, which clearly prohibited dueling. He would have none of it though. Technically speaking he had made the challenge, and he would absolutely not back down even if he hadn't. It was a matter of honor. When that was made clear enough to the both of them, neither hesitated to go along, Ron as his second and Susan for moral support. He was quickly learning from his friends that to a pureblood, standing by your friend was more important than agreeing with their actions.

The Training Room was the unofficial name of the empty classroom where older students came to practise some of the more powerful spells they were learning. The name had been coined by Professor Black, who had, according to rumor, used it in his seventh to get ready for Auror training, and later shared it with the students on his return as a professor. It was set up with a large number of cushions and supplies, and the teachers turned a blind eye to it because of the marked improvement students who used it showed in practical spellcasting. First through third years rarely used it, but already Daphne, along with a dark skinned boy Harry recognized as Blaise Zabini, were waiting inside when they arrived.

"Right on time Granger. That's good." There was no smile on her face to confirm whether it was, in fact, good or not. "Bones or Weasley?" Harry stared for a second before realising she was asking who his second was. He nodded towards Ron, who crossed his arms, recognizing that it wasn't the time for talk. "Shame, Bones is better." Ron scowled. "You're familiar with the formalities I assume." Harry nodded and smirked.

"Awfully formal about this, aren't you Greengrass? It's just a friendly little duel after all." Greengrass sniffed haughtily, and if Harry didn't know better he'd have said she was joking with him.

"A duel is a duel Granger, regardless of the stakes. Now bow." Greengrass gave a short, curt one of her own. Harry dipped a little lower, but never took his eyes off of Greengrass. They then stood straight, hands on their not yet drawn wands. The duel began with the bows, and either could move at any moment. Neither did. For several long moments they just watched each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Harry almost imagined a tumbleweed blowing behind them, and, despite himself, whistled a tune which any Muggle would recognize as the universal theme song of the quickdraw. The others in the room just gave him a confused look. Harry sighed.

"Purebloods. My humor is lost on you." And then he drew his wand. Greengrass had hers up in an instant but Harry was already casting his first spell. _"Furunculus!"_ A jet of red light shot out of Harry's wand and directly towards his opponent, who sidestepped much as she had earlier that day. She returned fire with a Stickfast Hex. Rather than dodge, Harry jumped as it hit him, throwing out a Leg Locker in mid-air. With nothing to stick his feet to, the spell fizzled out pointlessly, while Harry's spell caught Greengrass off-guard. She fell to the ground with a yelp, but unlike Harry earlier that day kept hold of her wand, which she brought snapping up.

"_Fumont!"_ A small blob of gray jumped off the tip and arced forward, landing at Harry's feet. On contact it burst, releasing an unrealistically large cloud of smoke where Harry stood. He covered his mouth automatically, even though he knew from the book that it was an illusion. By now Greengrass would already have had the leg locker countered, so rather than waste his energy dispelling the smokescreen Harry ran to the side, escaping its relatively small radius. He had only a few more spells in him-dueling was exhausting, especially for a first year-but fortunately he knew what to do with those last spells. He fell to the ground as soon as he was out of the smoke, landing so he faced Greengrass, and flicked his wand twice in opposite directions.

"_Langlock! Mimblewimble!"_ His gambit paid off as both spells managed to catch Greengrass, whose look of shock was almost as good as the actual effects of the spell. She brought her wand hand up and opened her mouth, but the sounds that came out were both garbled and muffled, nothing resembling the Latin or Germanic that made up most spells. She stared at her wand, which did nothing, and then spoke again. Once more there was gibberish and no effect. Harry pushed himself up and smirked.

"Funny story Greengrass, while you can cast with just a tongue-tier or tongue-sticking hex on you, doing it with both is kind of impossible." Harry hadn't known this for certain before, of course, only that it was difficult to with one or the other. He wasn't going to let on that it had been a gamble, though, just like he wasn't going to let on now that he felt far too spent to cast even one more combat spell. Harry chuckled, remembering his earlier joke. "You know, Greengrass, there are two kinds of people in this world. Those that can cast properly, and those that yield." He raised his wand directly at her. "You yield." Again he was faced with confusion. "You lot really do need to watch more Muggle entertainment. I mean, it didn't fit exactly, but that's a classic reference." Greengrass rolled her eyes and set her wand on the floor before bowing again. Harry returned the sentiment. Counterspells required virtually no magic of one's own, meaning even he could manage to fix Greengrass's tongue now that the duel was officially his.

"Alright Granger, I admit it," she said when she could once again articulate words. "You're actually pretty good. No power or speed at all but you're clever, I'll give you that much." She ran her eyes up and down him speculatively. "Rather too bad you're a Muggleborn, you'd have done well in Slytherin." Harry nodded, grinning.

"Thanks Greengrass. You weren't half bad yourself. I never expected that smokescreen. I've been trying to get it down for a while actually, can't seem to get more than a little puff." Greengrass pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment.

"… Blaise, we're leaving." Zabini merely nodded, causing Harry to start. He'd almost forgotten the boy was there, so wrapped up as he was in the duel. Zabini stood from his chair and walked over to Greengrass, offering his arm in a strangely gentlemanly fashion. They walked together to the door, but paused just in front of it. Greengrass turned her head over her shoulder and gave Harry an odd look. "I'll see you in Potions on Friday, Granger." And they left without another word.

The moment Greengrass was out of earshot Harry collapsed into the nearest chair and took a deep breath. He hadn't expected how exhausting that would be, particularly after so many nights using those same spells repetitively just to get the hang of them. Practise didn't require the kind of quick thinking and moving that a duel did, though. All the quick bursts of movement, watching your opponent's every move, and having to concentrate on his spells while all that was going on and the adrenaline pumped through him did a far greater toll. Ron came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good job mate, you did Gryffindor proud." Harry just grinned at his friend's reassurance. Susan kneeled down next to him and peered worriedly at him.

"Are you alright Harry? That smoke didn't do anything to you did it?" Harry shook his head.

"Just a little drained. I'll be fine in a few seconds." This didn't ease Susan's concern, and she continued to watch him, though for what, Harry couldn't say. Probably waiting for him to keel over and die. Whatever it was Harry wasn't really going to care. He won his duel, proved his victory, and it was now late enough that he was fairly certain Malfoy wouldn't be ringing him tonight.

As if on cue his pocket buzzed.

**Yes, I recently watched The Good The Bad and the Ugly. Anyway I'm not fond of the first half of the chapter, but the duel itself I rather enjoyed. Short, but fun to write and I think it plays out fairly well. Probably seems like filler now, but it'll all be important in the long run.  
**


	15. Reflections

"Malfoy! Malfoy, what's going on!"

"Quiet!" Harry had yanked the mirror out of his pocket and was half-shouting it, but Malfoy's swift reply stopped him. He was whispering sharply, managing to be both quiet and distinct. "She's in the Common Room, looking around for people. I'm going to confront her now, but she'll hear you if you say anything, so don't. Say. Anything." With that Malfoy's face disappeared and the surface of the mirror turned inky black as its partner fell into a pocket. Ron and Susan each leaned over one of Harry's shoulders, staring at the mirror.

"Harry…" Ron furrowed his brow. "Why is Malfoy's voice coming out of a pocket mirror?"

"And why didn't you mention it to us?" Susan continued.

"And why are you talking to him through it so secretively?" Ron finished. Harry put a finger to his lips.

"I'll explain later," he whispered. In truth he hadn't told them about the mirror because they had been skeptical about everything to do with his deal with Malfoy so far, but that was neither here nor there now.

"But-" Ron started, only to be shushed by Harry. A mere moment later Malfoy stopped.

"Hermione?" An all too familiar yelp of guilt came over the mirror.

"D-Draco, hi. W-what are you doing in the common room so late?" Hermione was nervous. That was good. A nervous Hermione was an easily tricked Hermione.

"I was working on that Charms essay for Monday. Put it off a bit." Malfoy chuckled. He knew how to play it casual, at least. "What about you then? I never thought you were the type to sneak out after curfew."

"Oh, uh… I thought I left something down here… but I guess I didn't. So, uh, I'll just be going back up to bed then." Harry shook his head. Such a terrible liar. Apparently Ravenclaw had hardwood floors because her heels clicked as she walked.

"I work this late every night you know." Her footsteps froze. "You'd be amazed what I see sometimes."

"… like?"

"Oh, sixth years sneaking off for a snog. The Weasley Twins getting in to set a prank-surprises me every time that they can solve the riddles. And of course the occasional first year leaving the dorms in the middle of the night." Harry could practically hear her spinning on her heels, her hands flying to her hips.

"What do you want Malfoy?"

"Want, Granger?" The switch to surnames did not pass Harry's notice.

"To keep quiet. Name your price, I don't care what it is." Ron nudged Harry's side with an elbow.

"Rushing blindly into debt is a family trait then?" Harry ignored the friendly jibe, his mind reeling. This was not how he'd expected this to go. Hermione was supposed to get flustered and nervous, make mistakes, because she was caught breaking the rules and that was what she did. She wasn't supposed to be collected and angry.

"Trying to bribe me?" Malfoy scoffed. "The Malfoy name may have been dragged through the dirt but the Malfoy gold is still good anywhere." A pause. "I was just a bit worried is all."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's like you said. We outcasts have to stick together."

"… that was months ago..." Hermione's voice was audibly softer. "You remembered?"

"Wasn't that hard." Malfoy's robes shifted in what Harry guessed was a shrug.

"… thank you Draco. I really am fine, though."

"No you're not. You look like shite." Harry blinked. Malfoy wasn't pulling any punches.

"I do not-"

"You're thin as a rail, you haven't been sleeping, and you're pale enough to make the Baron look alive. I've noticed how you skip meals, and you can't be getting enough sleep. You're not okay Hermione."

"Draco, just stop it! I'm okay, I've just been…"

"Just been what?" Harry imagined Hermione was chewing on her lip right about now.

"If I show you something," she said slowly. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Promise," Malfoy said. Ron snorted.

"Malfoys are good liars at least," he whispered.

"Okay... I found this mirror..." Harry paled. "And it shows me things. Incredible things really. Would... Would you like to come see it with me?" Harry was out the door before he could hear anything else.

* * *

Left. Right. Hump-backed Witch, keep straight. Harry couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. She'd been visiting the Mirror of Erised, an object so powerful it had even Black ensnared to a degree. It explained everything; her lack of focus, her late night jaunts, her conspicuous absences from meals. It was all about the Mirror. Right. Right. Downstairs. Around the corner. Back! Despite his distance Harry's decent knowledge of the castle layout and lack of concern for getting caught had put him at the mirror room at the same time as Hermione and Malfoy.

As soon as they were inside Harry dashed to the side of the door, which had been left open a crack, and peered inside. He could just see the edge of Malfoy's robes, but Hermione and the mirror were in clear view.

"So this is your amazing mirror then?" Malfoy was saying.

"Yes," Hermione breathed. She was staring straight at it, though she wasn't directly in front and couldn't see what it reflected for her.

"... Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi," Malfoy read.

"It took me a while to figure that inscription out. It's backwards." Harry hadn't noticed the inscription, but he'd never given the Mirror a proper look either.

"I see. Well, let's see what the fuss is about then." Malfoy took two steps forward and took his place in front of the Mirror. He leaned forward and peered into its surface. Harry held his breath as he watched Malfoy's face. Slowly it took on the same longing quality that he could see on Hermione right now. It lasted only a moment, though, before it morphed into disgust so rapidly that Harry questioned if he'd seen it at all. "What the hell is this?" Hermione, who had seemed hopeful that she'd have someone to share the Mirror with, looked shocked.

"Wh- Er, it's your heart's-"

"If this thing wants me to believe that this is my heart's desire then it's nothing good." Malfoy was practically snarling, and Hermione took a step back. His expression softened at the sight of her fear. He turned to the door. "I'm leaving. If you have any sense you'll do the same." He walked straight towards the door. If he was surprised to see Harry as he passed by he didn't say so.

Harry leaned against the wall for few moments, uncertain if Hermione would take Malfoy's advice, but when he looked back Hermione was looking at the Mirror. Not into it, just at it, with an apprehensive look in her eyes. Slowly, she moved in front of the Mirror's surface. From where she was Harry should have been perfectly visible, but she didn't notice him at all. Harry, on the other hand, could see her face very clearly in the reflection, as it slowly melted into a mask of blank contentment. He watched for several moments before sighing and rounding the corner into the room. It was high time he confronted the emotional problems he'd been avoiding so deftly. He coughed into his hand, causing Hermione to start. She blinked very quickly, eyes locked on him.

"H-harry! What are you-"

"How long have you been coming here, Hermione?" Harry cut her off, keeping his tone as gentle as possible. He remembered how Black had treated him and his friends when he'd discovered them with the mirror. He also remembered that Hermione had a long but nasty temper, and given her state it was probably shortened a lot.

"Erm… a few days. I found this mirror, you see, and I wanted to examine it properly…"

"You're a terrible liar, Hermione, and you know it." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but sighed in defeat. Harry shook his head. "D'you even know what this is Mione? What you're dealing with?"

"Of course I do," Hermione snapped. "The Mirror of Erised. It shows whatever the greatest desire in your heart is. It was created in 1807 by the court magician of Tsar Peter I of Russia, given to Selim III of Turkey to distract him from his imminent deposing, and then found its way into-" Harry held up a hand.

"I get it Hermione, you did your research." Hermione humphed.

"How did you find me anyway?"

"Malfoy was bugged."

"Oh. I suppose I should have guessed you put him up to this tonight. Why else would he have bothered with me?" Her eyes fell to the ground despondently as her mouth fell open, and she turned back to the Mirror seeking comfort. Harry would have none of it though, and slid in front of her, blocking her view. He looked at her sympathetically, having seen the hypnotic effect on Ron. If this was what it did to his sister, the unquestionable smartest tool in the shed, then he could only imagine how bad Ron would have been had Black not stepped in.

"Hermione…" Harry started as gently as he could. "What do you see in this thing?"

"… is that really your business Harry?"

"Yes, it is. Because whatever it is, it's got my sister obsessed." Hermione didn't answer, just stared at him blankly, clearly wishing he'd move out of the way. "If you tell me I might be able to help."

"Help with what? This isn't something you can fix with a prank Harry. You have no idea…"

"Well if I agree with that then I'll move out of the way." Harry crossed his arms. "Or I can just go tell someone and you'll have the professors and Mum and Dad to deal with." Hermione shook her head.

"You don't snitch Harry, we both know that."

"I would if I thought you were in danger!"

"Fine. You really want to know?" Hermione snapped. It took all Harry had not to jump back; her swinging moods were starting to throw him off. "I see people who like me." A tear prickled at the corner of Hermione's eye. "Not wealth or loved ones or any of the other things most people see. I'm not even particularly popular. Just a few people that genuinely want to spend time with me." She slumped down to the floor, a look of defeated anguish on her face. It was like she, just like Harry, was only just now admitting to herself how desperate that wish was. Harry could only stand and watch as his heart broke for his sister.

"Mione, I didn't realise-"

"They didn't even have faces you know," she interrupted. "Not until tonight anyway. I suppose I couldn't even think of one person I knew who _would_ want to be my friend." That one stung. While she probably hadn't intended it, it felt like a sharp jab at him. Even he hadn't been considered.

"What about Malfoy," Harry prompted, guilty that he had couldn't suggest himself. "He told me you were friendly at the start of the year."

"I thought he was just like the rest. Nice when he needed something from me." Bitterness echoed in Hermione's voice. "In primary school it was homework help, and with Draco it was decent human interaction. And I didn't want that. I didn't realise until tonight that he actually cared. And now he's there. In the mirror with me and my faceless friends." There was a choked sobbing sound then, and Harry realised that Hermione had started crying. His stomach squirmed, as most boys' did at the thought of dealing with a crying girl, but he shoved it down and strode forward. His arms were wrapped around Hermione's shoulders before he could even begin to be uncertain, and although it was certainly awkward, she didn't shy away from his embrace.

"Hermione… that's really kind of dumb." Harry could feel the smouldering glare forming before it did, and was quick to continue. "I mean to say, you didn't even give him a chance. Or anyone for that matter. You gave up right when you were surrounded by new people when you didn't know how they'd act and that's just stupid of you." He drew back and looked Hermione in the face. "And you already knew I like you. If you didn't you deserve your title of smartest girl in school revoked." Hermione let out a combination of a sob and a guffaw that came out like a cough.

"When have we ever hung out?"

"Loads of times! Like when… or there was… but what about… okay, we don't really hang out at all," he admitted lamely. "But it's not because I've avoided it, it's just never worked out that way. We never had anything we both wanted to do." Hermione sniffled.

"Harry, I get what you're trying to say-"

"No." It was Harry's turn to interrupt. "You don't, because if you did you'd have gotten all heartwarmed and stuff." Harry pressed his forehead against Hermione's, bringing a small smile to her face. Their mother had used this same comforting touch whenever they were upset when they were younger, and when she hadn't been present they'd done it for each other as well. It had been a long time since either of them had particularly needed it, but it was familiar nonetheless. "You're a cool person, you know. You're smart, and witty, and a lot of really stupid people can't see that. And screw them for it."

They rested there in silence for a few moments, neither being sure of where to go from there. Finally Hermione broke away from Harry and came to a shaky stand.

"Th-thank you Harry," she stumbled over her words, unused to the numbness of her lips that came with an outburst like her's. "For saying that." Harry stood as well. "We should probably both go…. it's way past curfew."

"Only you Hermione," Harry chuckled, "would care about that right now." Hermione stifled a giggle as well. No matter how sensitive she got she would never mistake Harry's teasing tone for one of malice.

Harry's original intention was to walk Hermione back to Ravenclaw Tower himself, but as soon as he left it was apparent that that job went to Malfoy, who stood outside the door awkwardly. From the look on his face it was clear he'd heard almost everything, but he didn't seem offended at Hermione's assumptions about him. Harry supposed it was because he was used to people assuming things. Hermione blushed, though, embarrassed. There was a moment of silence before Malfoy offered his arm awkwardly. Hermione hesitated, staring at it, but ultimately took it, and kissed Harry on the cheek in a silent goodnight. They walked away, and Harry smiled, thinking that maybe now everything could finally be alright.

**Oh my god this touchy feely stuff is burning my soul to write (which, by the way, is why this took so long to get out. It was just straight up impossible to do). I'm not an emotional person and I don't really express my feelings that well, so this scene was hard for me to write both times around, this time infinitely moreso. The things I do as a writer. Reminds me of when I killed Arthur. My personal feelings were like noooooooooooo but the part of me that knows good writing was like, "Greater Good son, deal wit it."**

**Quick question for any readers I have with siblings: I grew up an only child, and although I now have my wonderful step-sister who I love very dearly, I never really got to experience having a sibling as a kid, so I do worry about this. Is my writing of Harry and Hermione believable? That is, would you see how they interact, say, in this chapter, as realistic? I really would like to know.**

**One last thing. Our dear friends at ff net have finally given us something I believe is long overdue, the ability to add covers to stories. Despite what the long gaps in updates may tell you, I do plan on taking this fic series to completion and as such, I was wondering if anyone out there decent at graphic art would be interested in designing book covers for me. Let me know via PM if that's the case. You will, of course, be given due credit.**


	16. The Egg

Though the great Hermione mystery was solved, Harry wasn't left with nothing to do. The rapid approach of exams-rapid, at least, in the eyes of the professors and the Ravenclaws-meant homework was beginning to pile on heavily, and even Harry, who as a rule only put in the minimum effort, found himself swamped. Luckily there were perks to being back in good with a sister like his.

"Hey Mione, could you check my work for the Minor Panacea?" Hermione sighed and set down her textbook, allowing Harry to slide his Potion's essay to her across the table. She was adamantly opposed to the idea of doing Harry's homework for him, but by getting her to check it it amounted to the same thing.

"You know you could always let him sink or swim, Hermione," Malfoy said from across the table. "He'd hardly drown with so much air in his head." Susan snorted. When Harry had started joining Hermione and Malfoy for homework sessions every week she'd insisted on joining in. They invited Ron as well but every time he refused. Whether it was an aversion to Malfoy or an aversion to studying, Harry didn't know, but it was probably some combination of the two.

Hermione finished reading through the passage Harry had just finished writing and took her Clean Note Quill to the margins before handing it back to him.

"Not enough Moonwort, the stir is counterclockwise, and far too much Essence of Lavender."

"Gee, wonder what has Lavender on your mind Harry," Susan smirked. Harry flushed as Hermione and Malfoy both laughed at him. The week before Lavender Brown had struck up a conversation with him over breakfast that Ron and Susan insisted was completely flirtatious, and had been teasing him about it ever since. It was annoying, but Hermione found it funny, or "cute" as she put it, and it was nice enough hearing her laugh that he didn't fight it. She was looking much better, thanks to sleep, food and Malfoy dragging her outside after classes every day. He could not, however, take it lying down.

"Yeah? Tell me, how's Cedric?" Now it was Susan's turn to blush. Her poor Transfiguration marks had sent her begging to McGonagall for a tutor, and had been given a third year Hufflepuff universally described by the female population of Hogwarts as "dreamy."

"We worked on the snuffbox transfiguration and I absolutely did not spend the entire session staring at his gorgeous blue eyes." Her eyes went wide and she clapped her hands to her mouth. The others chuckled at her antics.

It was, Harry thought, exactly like the Muggle world in some ways. Four friends-okay, Malfoy was more Hermione's friend but that was beside the point-studying together and poking fun at each other. True, their essays were on Potions and their textbooks about how to ward off vampires, but it was still very familiar.

"Harry, Susan!" Madam Pince the stuffy librarian immediately shushed in the direction of the shout, accompanied by a fierce glare. Harry turned to find Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchley running down a row of books towards them. Hermione's expression morphed to match Pince's, and the pair immediately slowed, cowed by her "stop disrespecting my library" face.

"We've been looking all over for you guys," Neville panted. "Do you know where Ron is? We need to talk to him." Harry shrugged.

"He and Dean were playing chess when we left the Common Room. He's probably still there. He'll be down for dinner though, he is Ron after all."

"It's kind of an emergency," Justin said, looking around nervously. Harry shrugged.

"Alright, if you say so." Harry stood and swept his stuff into his bag. "Hermione, Malfoy, I'll see you later." Susan did the same and the pair left with Neville and Justin to idle waves.

"So what's this about anyway?" Susan asked as they walked.

"We, er, need him to send a letter to his brother for us. Very important, can't wait for anything." Neville's eyes darted back and forth anxiously, but Harry shrugged. He'd always seemed like the nervous sort anyway.

"Whatever you say mate. Gobbledegook." A pair of Hufflepuffs knowing the password didn't really matter, as the Fat Lady would only open for a Gryffindor anyway. Harry poked his head through the Entrance Hole and scanned around. As he'd predicted Ron was still in his favorite chess chair, squaring off against a fourth year with a contemplative look on his face.

"Oi, Ron, come out here a sec," he called. The fourth year turned to glare at him.

"Bugger off, Granger, I'm actually winning." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Quit playing around Ron, Neville and his friend have an emergency apparently only you can solve."

"Hm?" Ron looked up. "Oh, fine. Knight to D3, checkmate." The fourth year squawked as Ron stood and left, his demeanor reverting to normal the further from the chessboard he got.

Once outside Neville and Justin refused to talk, instead leading them to an empty classroom in an underused side hallway.

"Okay," Neville started. "What gets said here doesn't leave this room, alright?" Harry scoffed.

"Neville, you're dealing with the masters of secrecy." This was an exaggeration, as Susan tended to crack under pressure, but overall the trio knew how to keep their mouths shut. Neville let out a breath.

"Okay. I was really impressed by the pumpkins at the Halloween feast, right? So I asked Professor Sprout about them and it turns out the Gamekeeper, Hagrid, grows them. I went and talked to him about it, and Justin came with because, well, you know." Harry did in fact know. Hagrid was the giant who sat at the end of the Staff Table. Despite being widely regarded as a friendly bloke he was fairly intimidating to a normal person, let alone meek little Neville. "He turned out to be really nice, so we started visiting every week for tea and to exchange gardening tips-"

"I just went because I like his dog and he makes good tea," Justin supplied.

"Anyway last week we went down as usual. We were a little early because I wanted to tell him about my Whistling Fichus, which is why he couldn't hide it-"

"Oh, cut to the chase Nev. Hagrid's got a dragon egg!" There was a moment of silence as what Justin had said sunk in.

"Wicked," Harry and Ron said in unison. Susan was less pleased.

"... you know my Aunt is head of the DMLE, right," she asked, arms crossed. All of the boys stared at her.

"Susan!"

"Harry, dragon breeding without a permit is a crime, and I doubt Hagrid got a permit to raise a dragon in a wooden house next to a school," Susan said. She was standing firm on this, it seemed. "Breaking curfew is one thing, but this is a serious offense."

"Susan, please," Neville pleaded. "Hagrid's not done anything wrong yet. He didn't breed it himself, he won it in a card game, and technically until it hatches he hasn't broken the law."

"That's why we came to you guys," Justin said. He turned to Ron. "Neville said your brother works with dragons, right? Could you get in touch with him, see if he can take it before it hatches?"

"Er, I could try," Ron shrugged. "He lives in Romania and it's a bit of a trip, but I'll ask him." The Hufflepuffs sighed in relief.

"Thanks Ron, you're a life saver," Neville said. "Now we just need to convince Hagrid to give it up." Harry clasped his hands behind his back.

"Think that maybe we could possibly, perhaps, in some small way, try to help," he offered earnestly. Susan gave him an annoyed look.

"You just want to see the egg."

"What's your point?"

* * *

Harry had been warned about Fang the boarhound, but no amount of warning could have prepared him for the monster of a dog that pounced on him when Hagrid's door opened. It was easily larger than him, and definitely heavier, effortlessly pinning him to the ground. If Justin hadn't told him how much of a sweetheart Fang was he might've been frightened, but even if he hadn't the tongue swiping at his face would have cleared any confusion. Fang was harmless. Hagrid eyed the Gryffindor trio suspiciously from the doorframe.

"They already know, Hagrid," Neville said, rubbing the back of his head. "They've agreed to keep it a secret. For now at least," he added at Susan's disapproving stare. Hagrid's expression didn't change, but he did grunt and beckon them in with a jerk of his head.

"I s'pose they brought yeh to help get me ter give up me egg." He hung a kettle of water over the fireplace, where what looked like a large black stone sat smouldering on the coals that Harry realised was the egg. He shut the door, being the last in thanks to Fang, and took a seat next to Susan on the sofa. The fire made it unnaturally hot for May, and there was a general loosening of the uniform neckties all around.

"It's for the best Hagrid, you know it is," Justin said. "We've been over this, you can't raise a giant fire breathing lizard in a wooden hut with one room."

"The dragon would be happier in with my brother," Ron offered. "I've been on the preserve in Romania. Wide open spaces, plenty of other dragons, trained handlers, it's a wonderful place."

"I'm perfectly capable o' handling Norbert," Hagrid stubbornly insisted. Justin groaned.

"Hagrid, you named it already?"

"Yes I did," Hagrid puffed up proudly. "Did all me research so I'd know what ter do. That there's a male Norwegian Ridgeback. I've got a diet planned out, an' a trainin' regiment so he'll grow up big an' strong." Neville gulped. "I appreciate yer concern but I know what I'm doin', an' I've always dreamed o' this. Yeh can't make me give it up." Susan shook her head.

"That doesn't matter Hagrid. It's against the law, and even if I didn't take severe issue with that myself you've got to know you can't keep it a secret forever. Eventually someone's going to notice when it gets too big to fit in your house."

"I'll figure somethin' out. I mean Aragog can't fit in here an' no one knows about him."

"Who's Aragog," Harry asked curiously. Hagrid blushed.

"Er… forget I said that."

"Harry, say something," Susan prodded him. "You're the only one who hasn't tried to make him see reason." Harry shrugged.

"Personally I don't see why he can't try," Harry offered. The entire room save Hagrid squawked in bizzare unison. "I mean it is his dream."

"Harry, it. Is. Illegal." Susan emphasized each word with another poke in the side. "Not to mention highly dangerous. How can Hagrid be sure he can handle a dragon when he's never met one before?"

"I handle Fluffy okay," Hagrid said defensively.

"Who's Fluffy?"

"… forget I said that."

"Hagrid, I know you mean well," Neville said gently. "And I know you don't think any harm will come of it, but…"

"But trying to raise a dragon here is insanity and you know it," Justin finished.

"Hagrid, you can either get rid of the egg, or I can report you once it hatches." Again, everyone else gave Susan a scandalized look. "Why do you guys keep forgetting this? Aunt with the DMLE. I want to follow in her footsteps. I'm extremely fond of the law. The only reason I didn't go straight to the Owlery is because you haven't actually done anything illegal yet. But if you don't give it up then I am going to tell her, and then you'll be in trouble and they'll kill that dragon just for hatching in the care of an unlicensed handler." The matter of fact businesslike tone Susan used was one Harry had never heard from her, but had heard on one occasion when his parents' barrister had come to visit, and he wondered idly if Susan wasn't more suited to practicing law than enforcing it. Hagrid sat in stunned silence at the revelation, and the dangerous look he gave Susan was one Harry quite adamantly wished he would never be under.

"Yeh wouldn't do that… not ter an innocent creature."

"I wouldn't be doing it Hagrid," Susan asserted. "Like I said, you can't hide a dragon here forever. I'd only be making sure it happened before somebody got hurt in the crossfire." Hagrid's face fell dejectedly. "I'm sorry Hagrid. There are some laws I can understand bending, but this one exists solely to protect people. You're not qualified to handle a dragon, and certainly not in a school." Harry perked up at that.

"What if you got qualified." As one all eyes turned to stare at Harry. "I mean, Charlie only graduated last year, didn't he?"

"Yeh," Hagrid said, comprehension dawning on his face. "Used ter come down fer tea and talk creatures with me. Actually asked me fer help on his application fer the preserve."

"So it can't take that long to get started, right? What do you need, a Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T.? I bet you've got that." Hagrid blushed.

"Well, er, I was expelled in me third year ter be honest." Harry sagged.

"Oh."

"Wait," Ron piped up. "You're actually allowed to take O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. whenever you want. You don't even technically need the first for the second, that's why Percy's trying to do his NEWTS this year. Ambitious idiot."

"See?" Harry beamed. "I bet you could take it at the end of the year no problem and be on the first flight to Romania. I mean if you say you know magical creatures really well."

"Prob'ly better than anyone short o' ol' Newt Scamander," Hagrid said pridefully.

"So," Justin leaned in. "If you let us send the egg with Ron's brother, you'll be able to go get a job as a dragon handler yourself. You won't just have Norbert, but all the dragons you can handle."

"But you can't take your N.E.W.T.S. from a Ministry holding cell," Susan pointed out. "Which means you do have to give Norbert up for now-_for now_-to make it work."

Hagrid didn't seem to care about this little detail. The idea that he could live out his dream of being a dragon handler despite his expulsion from Hogwarts was monumental to him.

"I'll… I'll do it. I know Charlie'll take good care o' him until I get there. I can do this, right? Yeh lot believe in me?" There was fervent nodding all around, even from those who didn't really know Hagrid. Harry and Ron had already taken a liking to the friendly giant, and Susan was willing to say anything at this point to get him to give up the egg. "All right then. But yeh lot will have ter help me study. I don' know much about the, er, theoretical side o' magical creatures." This was met with less fervor, but they all agreed to pitch in whatever way they could. Hagrid was going back to school.

**It's disgusting how much more easily this chapter came than the last. I think it's mostly because I'm so excited about this mini-arc. It's a heist, but IN REVERSE! Oh and before you say anything, because I know the smart aleck who will does exist out there and I fear that he's reading, yes I realize how implausible it would be for dragon tamers to only need a Magical Creatures NEWT, and yes I intend to address it.**


	17. Unnecessarily Complicated

**Ladies and gentlemen, presenting what happens when you make Harry in charge of a covert mission, don't give him an invisibility cloak and let him watch Ocean's Eleven.**

When Charlie Weasley's letter arrived, it contained both good news and bad news.

_Ron,_

_I'd be happy to take care of Hagrid's Ridgeback until he gets licensed. I put in a call to an old friend from school I haven't seen in a while-you owe me five galleons for the international Floo Powder by the way-and she's agreed to swing by the school and bring it to me. Thanks for the excuse for her to come visit. Anyway have the egg up on the Astronomy Tower at midnight on the 23__rd__, and she'll pick it up there._

_As for Hagrid getting a position, I talked to the big boss and he wasn't too interested until I mentioned that Hagrid is a half-giant. Then you'd have thought I made Christmas come early. Anyway Hagrid's got the job sealed if he gets his N.E.W.T.s, but that might be a bit of a problem. He doesn't just need Magical Creatures, he needs Charms too. And a working wand for that matter. I know he keeps the pieces of his old one in his umbrella but we do have a couple of Charms we have to be able to use in an emergency. He can learn them specifically here but he needs the N.E.W.T., and that old thing isn't dependable at all._

_Keep me updated on Hagrid's progress  
Charlie_

So on the one hand Norbert was on his way out and good riddance to him. On the other, Hagrid had a whole other N.E.W.T. to prepare for, one that he didn't have a natural talent for. It wasn't a complete loss, thankfully.

"I kept me umbrella for a reason yeh know," Hagrid said when they delivered the news to him. "The old Gameskeeper Ogg, he helped me keep up with me studies when I was still his apprentice. I was rubbish at Transfiguration and Potions was too expensive, but I wasn't bad at Charms. I am a wee bit rusty though…" his nervous tone betrayed him.

Harry, meanwhile, took up the job of plotting their smuggling run, having the advantage of both years of sneaking experience and the knowledge of what a heist movie was. After running through a dozen different plots and failing miserably, though, he finally reached a verdict. They were going to need help.

"The grounds are charmed to alert the Headmaster if a student leaves the castle past curfew," Harry told the assembled group at a meeting at Hagrid's house one afternoon. "Which means we're going to have to extract the egg well before nightfall."

"I could just bring it up ter yeh," Hagrid offered, but Harry shook his head.

"You can't prove that you didn't breed the egg Hagrid, and with your, er, history, I don't think anyone would believe you if you said you didn't. If you're implicated in any way you're going to be thrown in jail. Us, though, I can concoct a believable story for." Harry looked at Neville and Justin. "You two come down here most often, so you're the best candidates to pick up the egg. Then we have it change hands, and your part is done. You get an alibi and make sure no one can connect you, and therefore Hagrid."

"If only he applied himself this much to Potions," Susan quipped.

"I'd still barely scrape by because it makes no bloody sense," Harry shot back. "Anyway, the egg isn't exactly inconspicuous. It's really large and bulky, and thanks to me and my extracurricular activities if any of us are seen with something suspiciously bulky, even in a bag, we're going to be searched."

"I told you the fireworks in the toilet were a bad idea," Ron said. "Should've just let Fred and George do it."

"Anyway, that's why we need someone else's help. Someone who no one will think weirdly of for being secretive, and knows how to be subtle. We need a Slytherin."

* * *

"Hey Greengrass," Harry called, running to catch up with the girl in question, who was currently moving in tandem with Zabini away from Defense. She turned.

"Hello Granger." While their relationship had grown steadily more amicable since their duel, the two still couldn't really be called friends, and maintained a last name basis. "Come to make excuses for why I wiped the floor with you today?" There was a teasing tone to her voice despite her face staying aloof as always, and Harry wondered just when she'd started loosening up around him.

"Yes, actually," he replied. "I was distracted. See, I'm planning something. Something big. Something me and my friends are going to become legends for, once the rumors that all the professors won't ever be able to confirm start going around." Harry pitched a wolfish grin. "Want in?"

First rule of dealing with Slytherins: Always appeal to their ambition.

* * *

"There's also the matter of lookouts. No one will believe that me or Ron or Susan are just wandering the halls without each other, or even entertain that we're not up to no good. We need someone to keep ahead of us and make sure none of the teachers are deviating from their patrol schedules. Preferably someone who's never been in trouble before, that the Professors will be quick to forgive. Unfortunately I only know one person who fits that description."

* * *

"You want me to WHAT?!" The shushing sounds that filled the library fell on deaf ears, despite the fact that the speaker would normally be among them.

"It's pretty simple, Hermione," Harry pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I want you to play lookout while we smuggle a dragon egg through Hogwarts." Hermione's dumbfounded stare was one that Harry would remember to his grave, and treasure every time he recalled it.

"And why, Harry, WHY exactly would you think I'd entertain that idea for even a second?"

"Come on, Mione," Harry pleaded. "Hagrid made a mistake buying the egg but because of it he has something he really wants in life, and if he doesn't get rid of it soon that's going to fall completely out from his fingertips." Hermione pursed her lips. "You know he's in his hut right now studying for his N.E.W.T.s? He never thought he'd get a chance at it you know. I'm pretty sure even if it wasn't for the job he'd be happy just to get the chance to improve his education." He could see her resolve wavering at the thought of a man gaining the opportunity for knowledge. All it would take was one more push…

"I'll help." Both Grangers turned their head to Malfoy, who was absently scrawling a Potions essay with barely a thought. "If Hermione does I mean. Sounds like fun." Harry blinked.

"Uh, thanks for the offer Malfoy, but-"

"She's a terrible liar and you know it." It was a testament to how self-aware Hermione was that she didn't even try to argue, just nodded. "I'm a great liar, but lack the 'no one would ever suspect me of wrongdoing' factor. Together, though, I provide the deception and she provides the legitimacy."

"… I'm starting to see why the hat almost put you in Slytherin."

* * *

It took only a little more badgering before Hermione was on board, finally allowing Harry to plot the mission properly. He worked out a rudimentary map by memory of the castle on Tuesdays and gave Malfoy, Hermione, Greengrass and Zabini (who Greengrass insisted on including for reasons beyond their understanding) directions and instructions for getting to the rendezvous points undetected. Neville and Justin would go to Hagrid's at tea time as they regularly did, and bring the egg back in a large bookbag. They would stay as long as they normally did, then leave and get "lost." While in a deserted corridor, they would swap with Zabini and Greengrass, then retreat to the Hufflepuff Common Room and stay there for the rest of the evening. Then at ten, the Slytherins would meet up with the trio and the Ravenclaws. Team Ravenclaws would take the lead, talking at a low enough volume that wouldn't attract attention unless someone was already there. Team Slytherin would do the same at the rear of the group, as a warning for anyone who might be coming up from behind. Both teams were armed with an excuse about leaving something in the library and getting lost, an easily believable excuse given that neither group had been known to wander the halls at night at all. A few points would be docked and a warning given, but they would be let off. Meanwhile Team Gryffindor would stay in the middle with the egg.

While Harry planned, the others set about helping Hagrid. Hermione very rapidly took over Hagrid's reviewing sessions, even though most of the concepts he was studying were completely above her knowledge, thanks to her innate ability to organize. For the actual content, Ron made perhaps the biggest sacrifice of any of them in the entire scheme: he used his Christmas Coupon from Percy. It had taken some persuading, but the older boy was finally convinced to both allow him to use it for Hagrid and to extend it several additional days. He wasn't allowed to know about the egg, though, which was why they began holding their study sessions in the library instead.

Percy wasn't quite what Harry had expected. From the fact that he was going for his N.E.W.T.s at only 15, Harry had imagined an older, male Hermione, bookish and obsessive about studying. While he was very serious and focused, though, he didn't seem much more academic than Harry himself.

"School is all about proving yourself, Granger," he said when asked about this one afternoon. "Everything I've learned over the years I could've learned at home under my mother, and probably faster too given the more personal environment. But there wouldn't have been any prestige in that." He busied himself with a sparse sheet of notes. "Take my testing this year. I fully anticipate failing most of my N.E.W.T.s, except for History of Magic and Herbology. I know the material enough to help Hagrid, but I won't pass Charms myself. That's why I'm taking O.W.L.s the week before, so I can continue my studies in sixth year, and those I'll be getting straight Os and Es on. But the point is that employers will take notice, especially on my scores. At fifth year no one will care that I got a T in Transfiguration, but they'll be very impressed with my P in Potions."

It made sense, in a roundabout way. Hermione had already sworn to follow Percy's example in fifth year, but where she was doing it for knowledge, a very Ravenclaw reasoning, Percy was being a Slytherin in it.

The funniest part that despite his expulsion Hagrid was actually fairly clever. After retrieving practice tests from Professors Flitwick and Kettleburn he'd done reasonably well on the first and phenomenally on the second, although the practical portion of Charms was a bit less satisfactory. Hagrid had done his research and found that because staves and focusing crystals had still been widely used when the standardized testing system was formed, wands weren't required for them. As such he adamantly refused to buy a new wand, stating definitively that if he wouldn't buy one until he'd proven he deserved it by passing the Charms exams. It was admirable in a way, but Harry still wanted to smack his own face every time the umbrella's instability made his rock cakes stop singing.

* * *

Harry checked his watch for the third time. 10:15.

"They're late," Ron growled, tapping his foot. A glare from Hermione stopped it.

"We're in a large empty hallway Ronald, your foot is going to echo and we're _going_ to get caught." It was amusing, Harry noted, that Susan had been just as concerned about being caught when they'd first started wandering the halls. He wondered if the girls realised how much they had in common. Malfoy and Ron both rolled their eyes in unison, though thankfully neither noticed.

At that moment Zabini and Greengrass both appeared.

"Apologies for the delay," Greengrass said cordially. Zabini, as usual, said nothing. "We were almost caught by the caretaker's cat. By the by, if you ever run into her at night bribe you can bribe her by conjuring some warm milk. It's a simple spell and she'll leave you alone." The nonchalant manner in which she implied that she'd done this before caused a vein in Hermione's temple to visibly throb, so Harry mentally filed it away and got to business.

"All right, everyone in positions. Hermione, Malfoy, you two go one corridor ahead of us. We'll keep behind you at all times. Then when we're a decent distance ahead, Greengrass and Zabini will also follow. If a teacher comes across you, start talking loud enough for us to hear and the rest of us will change course. Everyone clear?" Six heads nodded. "All right, Operation Egg is a go." Six heads looked at him strangely. "… just go."

Their progress was slow, with the Ravenclaws setting their pace. Any time Harry and company reached a corner they had to surreptitiously wait until Hermione and Malfoy rounded the next one, keeping their ears perked up for anything louder than the soft small talk each team was making. They had to keep stopping and trading off on who held the egg too, because it was far too heavy for an eleven year old to keep for long.

It was when they were taking a shortcut between the fifth and eighth floors on the third-the quirks of a magic castle-that they first ran into trouble.

"Oh, Professor Snape, hello!" Malfoy's detached but chipper manner sold the bit well. It really came off like he didn't care about being caught. Snape spoke too softly to be heard, probably in that frightening manner of his, but Malfoy continued. "Hermione here left her wand in the library, and we seemed to have gotten lost on our way back. This is the fifth floor right?" The trio had frozen, and the Slytherins crept up behind them. They exchanged glances before taking off down a side corridor. Every hallway had been given a workaround route.

With Hermione and Malfoy preoccupied, Greengrass and Zabini were left to take point, and they resumed the same pattern that they had before. Fortunately, as they didn't have any other backup scouts, they arrived at the Astronomy Tower without any further interruption, a full half hour ahead of schedule. They sat in silence, not wanting to attract the attention of any staff members walking by. Fifteen minutes before midnight Hermione and Malfoy also poked their heads in, wanting, as Hermione said, to make sure they got there alright.

"Professor Snape let us off really easily. It was weird," she said, settling down next to Greengrass.

"He just gave us directions back to Ravenclaw Tower," Malfoy continued. "Said he couldn't escort us because Dumbledore's in London or something and they were running strict patrol duty. It didn't make much sense."

Before any of them could ponder Snape's strange behaviour there was a light clatter at the window, followed by a nerve-rackingly loud crash as a figure-Charlie's friend most likely-landed on the sill and then fell to the floor. She picked herself up and grinned sheepishly.

"Wotcher, kids!" The young woman in front of them was remarkably punk rock, with spiky bubblegum pink hair and a diamond nose stud. She wasn't even bothering with robes, instead sporting a leather jacket and torn jeans, as if someone had shown her a picture of a stereotypical "cool" Muggle and told her to imitate. "Name's Tonks. You lot've got a dragon egg for me, yeah?" Harry cringed at how loud she was being.

"Here you go," Ron said, picking the satchel up and hoisting it into her arms. Her knees buckled from the unexpected weight.

"Oof, heavy one." Her wand flew from her sleeve into her hand with a snap of her wrist, a technique Harry vowed to master for image purposes alone, and she tapped it. Apparently she'd made the egg lighter, because it didn't seem to take any effort for her to sling the pack over her shoulder this time. "And you'd be Charlie's little brother?" Ron nodded, and she rubbed his head good-naturedly. "Thanks for ruining my plan. I was gonna fly out and surprise him a week ago but then he told me to come anyway." Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Why were you going to fly all that way to see him?"

"Well I am his girlfriend you know." Tonks winked as she remounted her broom, and shot out the window with a wave while Ron gawked at her.

"… I'd ask why I didn't know about her, but given the way she looks I don't think Mum would've approved if he'd brought her round for dinner." There was a general chuckle around the room.

Spirits were high as the large group headed out of the Astronomy Tower and back towards the third floor shortcut where they would part ways. They didn't bother with any kind of formation on the way back, since it was much faster, and as such were all together when they saw the door. Or rather, the doorframe, which had never actually been there before.

"… what the bloody hell." Ron's sentiment captured the thoughts of all of the children, who marvelled at the destruction. Not only had the door been violently blown off its hinges from the outside, leaving large chunks in the stonework, but a perfect line of blasted and cracked holes ran along the stone around where the door had once been.

"This door hasn't ever been here before," Harry said with certainty. He'd been down this hallway a hundred different times a hundred different days, and there had never once been a door there, let alone one that was destroyed. Hermione nodded, which sealed the deal for Harry; she hadn't explored the castle nearly as much as him, but her memory was twice was his could ever be. Ron, however, disagreed.

"No, mate, it was here." When Harry opened his mouth to argue Ron added, "just not when we've been here. Fred and George told me they used to have Charms on the third floor, it was the only place in the castle that didn't move." That shut Harry up. It made sense, to an extent.

"So where'd it go and why's it back?" Susan asked.

"Can we investigate in the morning, maybe," Hermione asked, looking around anxiously as if certain a teacher was going to come around the corner and expel them on the spot. She went ignored.

"Runes." Stunned silence, before everyone looked at Zabini. He almost never spoke, except when asked a question in class. He pointed at the frame of the door, which had been pulverised in its own right, and Greengrass leaned in for a closer look.

"… he's right. There are a whole bunch of cracked runes here. I'd bet there were more where those holes are too, and they were keeping it from being noticed."

"But why?" Harry put a hand on the frame and slowly poked his head in, then audibly gasped. Lying dead on the floor next to the detached door was a very large dog with three massive heads. Driven by both curiosity and instinct Harry ran forward to investigate, prompting his friends and associates to yelp and run in after him. He was on the floor next to the corpse in a matter of seconds, with everyone crowding behind him. Harry laid a hand on its chest; its skin was still warm.

"We… we should get out of here, fast," Susan stammered, her face pale. Hermione and Malfoy both nodded and the three of them backed away, even though the Harry, Ron, Greengrass and Zabini didn't seem inclined to leave.

"This thing is big," Greengrass pondered. "What could've killed it?"

"Killing Curse. Poison in water. Or a Basilisk," Zabini answered. Greengrass snorted.

"I highly doubt there's a Basilisk in the school, Blaise." Malfoy shook his head.

"Whatever it was, I'm not sticking around to find out." He turned around and strode towards the door. And at that moment, seven screams filled the air as the floor beneath them fell away, plunging them into darkness.

**One sentence sudden cliffhanger what?**


	18. Slug

There was a soft thud when Harry collided with the ground, followed by several others all around him. It felt like he'd been falling for miles, but his landing had been almost feathery soft. He sat up, squinting to see in the darkness, and determined that he and the others, the sources of the other thuds, were in some kind of large circular room dimly lit by glowing coals inside of wall braziers. The walls were made of rough-hewn stone while the floor was tiled, and the ceiling stretched out far above them.

"What happened…" Susan slowly stood and rubbed the back of her neck. Hermione stood up as well.

"I think we fell through the floor," she speculated. "Draco must have inadvertently tripped a spell of some kind."

"Nice going Malfoy," Ron grumbled. Malfoy was on his feet already, brushing himself off with sharp, dignified movements.

"I'm sorry Weasley. Next time I'll just assume that every door is booby trapped to drop people into a dungeon." He wrinkled his nose. "What the hell is that smell?"

"Huh?" Everyone started sniffing the air, and Harry choked almost immediately. Something was giving off an absolutely foul odour. Harry started looking around, and noticed something that they'd missed in the dim light. "Look, there's a door."

Door was being polite. It was far more like the opening of a cave, a rough semi-circular hole carved into the stone of the wall. The other side was completely cloaked in darkness, and the roughness of the walls seemed to indicate it had been blasted out with explosions, rather than carved. Within the inky darkness they could just barely make out a slightly shifting form.

"Hello?" Susan called out towards it. "Is someone there?" The figure moved again, seeming to stand up. "We could use some help. Do you know where we are?" Apparently it hadn't stood before. It had sat. Harry realised this with a jolt of fear as it _actually_ stood, easily reaching the twelve foot high ceiling of its cave. In that same moment the smell grew worse, and the students all took a unanimous step back as the thing stepped into the light. It was massive, with oily grey skin and bushy red hair covering its arms. Its form was humanoid, but with arms that were well out of proportion to the rest of the body, swinging past its knees. Large, rocky spikes jutted out of its shoulders and ran down its back, but even more intimidating was its weapon-a very large, very deadly looking metal hammer. Its body was covered in a hodgepodge of armour, a chestplate and greaves and pauldrons all rent where the spikes on its body appeared. It growled at the sight of them.

"You not supposed be down here," it said. There was a unanimous shiver through the group.

"Y-y-y-" Malfoy stammered. "You're an ogre, aren't you?" The thing nodded, grinning wickedly as it lifted its hammer and took hold of the shaft with its other hand menacingly. Harry gulped. Black has once shared an experience he'd had with an ogre. They were mean creatures, related to trolls and giants but actually near human intelligence that roamed the Continent raiding small villages, and were often hired by more unsavoury characters as bodyguards.

"Yes. I called Slug. Slug paid large money to hurt anyone who not supposed be here. What your business?" Malfoy gulped hard and stepped forward, his head high and chest out.

"We… we don't mean to be here. We were investigating the room above and accidentally tripped the mechanism to send us down. If you would kindly…" Malfoy trailed off as Slug began laughing, a gravelly and unpleasant sound that disturbed Harry deeply.

"Upstairs room protected. Students not see, teachers not open. No one here by mistake. Little man try to lie to Slug." The menacing grin returned to Slug's face. "Slug kill anyone that try sneak in." He drew his hammer behind him to swing at Malfoy, who had turned perfectly white and seemed unable to move.

"Draco!" Hermione shouted, running forward to try and help him, but Greengrass of all people beat her to it, standing firmly between Malfoy and Slug with her arms crossed.

"Stop right now, ogre!" Her tone was forceful, causing Hermione and Slug to both freeze even though the terror in her eyes was perfectly visible. "You said you're being paid quite a large sum, correct? I don't know who your employer is, but my family is among the wealthiest in Britain. I've heard ogres are shrewd mercenaries, so whatever you're being paid now, I will pay you double to enter my service instead." Slug stared at her, his eyes slowly scrunching up as he deciphered her formal tongue into what his slower brain could understand. He brought his free hand to his chin, clearly considering the offer.

The motion was so quick it was almost missed, but Harry caught the tail end of Slug's hand swiping both Malfoy and Greengrass is one stroke.

The pair went flying across the room and into the ground as Slug laughed.

"Silly human girl. You cannot bribe Slug. Slug's boss offer Slug as much gold as Slug want. Little girl no can match boss." Slug sneered viciously as he lumbered forward, dragging his hammer behind him. "Slug make you all dead now." He focused his efforts towards Hermione, who was closest. She shrieked and tried to back away too quickly, stumbling and falling onto her back. Undeterred she skittered away, pushing herself back as fast as she could go over the rough stone. Harry snarled and drew his wand as the beast approached his sister, brotherly instinct overtaking terror, but as he pointed he couldn't think of a single useful spell. All of the many jinxes he'd learned over the past year flew straight from his head as Slug drew closer to Hermione and drew the hammer over his shoulder to smash it into her, sending him rapidly into panic mode.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Slug's hammer suddenly tugged sharply backwards, and though he kept a hold on it it yanked him backwards as well, causing him to stumble. He lowered it and looked curiously at it. _"Expelliarmus!_" The same voice shouted. Harry traced it back to the source and saw Malfoy was back on his feet and pointing his wand, a fierce look on his face. Greengrass had stood as well and drew her own wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" This time the hammer went to Slug's right, pulling him even more sharply. Harry got the idea and started casting his own Disarming charm, his cries of _Expelliarmus_ intermingling with Malfoy and Greengrass. The hammer jerked around in all directions, sending Slug stumbling around heavily. Finally Harry cast it one last time, by coincidence in perfect tandem with Malfoy and Greengrass, and added an extra sharp flick to the end. The hammer went flying over Slug's head, and his attempt to hold it with both hands only sent him soaring a good foot in the air before falling to his back. The hammer fell several feet away from him. Hermione managed to get to her feet then, and in a moment of inspiration drew her own wand and pointed it at Slug's hammer.

"_Wingardium Leviosa."_ Her voice lacked the sharp fervour of the others casting, instead taking on a frightened but confident tone. The hammer floated into the air, high above Slug's reach as the ogre stood and started making grabs at it, even jumping childishly. When he realized he couldn't reach it, Harry was certain he would go straight for Hermione again, but instead he just started stomping around and shouting frustratedly.

"GIVE! BACK! SLUG'S! HAMMER!" He yelled, glaring up at it. Hermione gulped.

"If you say so." Her wand dropped, and so did the hammer, head first. Unfortunately for Slug, he was directly under it, and it collided with his bald head. A sharp crack filled the air, and Slug swayed in place for a moment before falling to the ground face first, unconscious. The kids all stared at it in stunned silence, Hermione's horrified as it sank in that she'd just attacked and possibly killed another being. Thankfully Slug's body still twitched a little, and he was evidently still breathing.

"… Hermione?" Ron said. "Remind me never to get in a duel with you."

By unspoken agreement, they all brushed themselves off after the terrifying encounter and proceeded into the hole Slug had come from. It turned out to be a long tunnel, with an alcove that Slug had apparently lived in, going by the smell. They moved quickly past that and proceeded as deep into the tunnel as they could in search of an exit. None of them spoke at all, save for one small moment where it really sank in what had just happened and there were congratulations all around for Greengrass, Malfoy and the Grangers defeating an ogre like they had as well as assurances that the former two were alright.

Eventually they came to what seemed to be the end of the tunnel, a flat stone brick wall with a rectangular door-shaped hole in it. One by one they filed in, but it turned out to just be a continuation of tunnel, with another, identical wall about twenty yards down.

"Seriously," Ron groaned. "Where does this thing lead? Feels like we must be under the Black Lake by now."

"Space compression," Zabini said. When he got odd looks from this he clarified. "We're probably still under the castle, in a magically compressed space." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Great, so not only are we stuck, we're stuck in a TARDIS. Wouldn't be too bad if we could actually time travel with it."

"Harry, you really have to stop making Muggle references that none of the rest of us get," Susan said.

"I got it," Zabini offered. Harry shrugged.

"Whatever, let's just keep going. Even potentially infinite spaces can't go on forever." Hermione opened her mouth as if to correct him, but then closed in and shook her head in exasperation and took the lead.

Harry felt it before he saw anything happen; a humming in the air as they crossed the halfway point of the tunnel. His skin crawled, and with a loud banging sound the rock over the doorway in the wall in front of them slammed down, sealing it off. He didn't have to look to figure out that the one behind was just as sealed. And then the walls, amazingly, began to glow. Countless tiny purple lights coated the circular surface around them, illuminating the sealed space.

"… I have a very bad feeling about this…" Greengrass mused.

A string of the lights glowed brighter in rapid succession, and as if marked by her words Greengrass fell to her knees, her palm flying to her temple in pain. She didn't scream, that would be undignified, but it was obvious enough that she wanted to.

"Daphne!" Zabini shouted, moving towards her, but another string of lights turned bright and he collapsed as well. Ron looked around at the walls frantically.

"It must work by voice or something," he called, before clapping a hand to his mouth. Nothing happened. "…well then." At that moment the wall changed again, and Hermione fell, followed by Susan. Malfoy went down next as yet another line of lights appeared, and Ron went down too. A seventh line appeared and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for pain… but pain never came. He opened his eyes again. The others were all on the ground, still clearly wracked by whatever was assaulting their minds. He ran to Susan, who was closest, and kneeled down next to her, rubbing her arm soothingly. She was on her hands and knees, her eyes watering painfully.

"Harry… voices… there are so many voices… telling me what to do, and I can't… I can't hear all of them, it's just so loud…" Harry stood and looked around. The lines on the wall were beginning to sway, lights getting brighter or dimmer to simulate random waving motions. He took two long strides towards the edge and looked in closely at them. Each individual pinprick of light was small, but when he leaned in to examine them it quickly became clear that they were runes. Harry knew nothing of runes, of course, except that they could activate sealed magic. Looking over the numerous potential runic arrays that were represented by the movements of light, sudden inspiration struck him. He couldn't destroy them all like Zabini and Greengrass said the ones around the door on the third floor had been, but there was one point, one tiny little point, that every other line seemed to meet, and despite that they were all moving with no regard for anything else around the walls, that one particular spot stayed constant. He raised his wand and thankfully didn't forget every spell he knew like he had before.

"_Defodio!_" A sliver of silver light followed the arc of his wand and flew out into the wall, leaving a deep gouge where it made contact. He has to try again twice before it finally kicked in, apparently hitting whatever the central rune was, and deactivated the entire little corridor. All the runes slowly faded back into darkness, starting with the twisting lines of runes that had been plaguing his friends. They collapsed as one in relief, all breathing heavily. Harry went to Hermione first and foremost and helped her stand.

"Th-th-thank you H-harry," she stammered, clearly shaken from the event. Everyone else was also shakily getting to their feet, a common occurrence down in whatever hellhole they'd been dropped into. "What j-just happened?"

"Compulsions," Malfoy answered. He still had his hand against his temple, pressing hard against a headache. "We were bombarded by compulsions. Too many conflicting ones to actually make any of us follow them, so instead we just had our heads filled with a thousand voices." He looked curiously at Harry. "Why weren't you affected?" Harry shrugged.

"Maybe he's got a natural immunity," Susan suggested. "It's rare but it happens. People immune to mind magic and all that."

"I don't know and I don't care," Ron said. "We need to find a way out of this place, and fast. Whoever built it doesn't want people running around, and the sooner we're out the better." The doors out of their cylinder reopened almost as soon as Ron said it, and he grinned. "See? I bet there'll be an exit through here, and everything will work out fine." He hopped through the hole and the others followed him one by one, Harry being the last out. When he saw what was on the other side he narrowed his eyes.

"Everything will work out fine, right Ron?" Ron didn't answer, as he was too wrapped up in the pathway of swinging axes and fire that stood in front of them.


	19. Gauntlet

The chamber they'd entered was large and square. A long, empty stretch of floor spanned ahead of them, and a large marble sphere was set in the wall on the other side, as well as a black metal door. And quite unfortunately standing between them and the other side was a myriad of obstacles, ranging from heavy axes swinging from the ceiling to statues that spat out gouts of fire at regular intervals. A path of stone tiles ran through each of them, and Harry had a suspicion that if they tried to cross any way other than those tiles there would be negative consequences.

"... what. The. Hell," Malfoy spat out. "Who puts these kinds of things in a SCHOOL for crying out loud?"

"How are we all supposed to get through this thing without being killed," Susan wondered out loud. Greengrass lifted a finger in response and pointed to the sphere.

"With that. I'd bet any amount of gold that that thing deactivates the entire course, so that a person coming from the other side doesn't have to cross." Ron wrinkled his nose.

"So one of us is gonna have to volunteer then?"

"Why can't we just stay here?" Hermione offered a little pleadingly. "And wait for a teacher to come rescue us."

"I dunno Hermione, maybe because we pissed off an ogre about half an hour ago who could wake up at any minute and will want to smash through everything he can to kill us," Ron countered.

"Not to mention that any teacher down here isn't to be trusted," said Greengrass. Hermione shot her a scandalised look that the very suggestion. "Think about it. That brute said that no one but the teachers knew any of this was here, including the first door. What's more is that Slug hadn't been in a fight before us. That means that he's meant to let whoever blasted the door open through if needed. Eventually someone will come looking for us down here, but how are we to know that that will be a good thing." She crossed her arms and stared Hermione down. "Our best bet is to keep moving and hope that we find our way out."

"I think Zabini agrees with you," Harry commented dryly. Greengrass's head snapped back towards the obstacles, where in the midst of the discussion Zabini had bolted in and was already past the first few heavy swinging things and fire spitters.

"Blaise, what the devil are you doing!" Greengrass's infamous composure fell away in that moment as she shrieked to her friend, who was currently too preoccupied with not dying to answer. He ducked past another fireball and froze, studying the columns in front of him which rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern. It was fairly simplistic, and reminded Harry of the Thwhomps in his Mario game back at home. Three were lined up in a row, with a fourth around a corner. Zabini braced himself, and calmly moved under the first one as it rose high enough to crouch under. The next one came up high enough just as the first began to fall, but Zabini proved himself quick enough to slip under before the first column crushed him. The same process was repeated with the third. On the fourth Zabini had even less of a time frame, and actually dived to make the narrow window. He made it, to the cheers of his companions, but not all of him did as they realised only a second later when a sickening crush revealed that his foot was still underneath. Zabini cried out, but didn't stop where he was, dragging himself forward so that the final column couldn't finish him.

He steadfastly ignored any calls of concern or offers of help. Harry was just about ready to jump in himself and help Zabini, but the other boy managed to pull himself up and stand. He favoured his uninjured foot, but the other one didn't appear to be broken and he could evidently put some weight on it. His face set, Zabini continued on. The columns had been the halfway point and the rest was all easier, but with an injured foot Zabini was clearly having a hard time. He barely avoided being toasted alive at one point. But finally he reached the end. He only had to get past one more swinging axe and he would be able to test Greengrass's theory about the sphere.

He limped forward as soon as the axe crossed the centre point, when he knew he'd have the most time, but in a moment of sheer horror for the rest the moment he entered its path it visibly became three times as fast, and Zabini barely managed to get past without being cleaved in half. He didn't make it out unscathed though, as he let out a scream of pain and fell to the ground, his good leg twitching.

"BLAISE!"

"Greengrass, wait!" Malfoy grabbed at Greengrass's arm as she tried to run forward, ignoring the stone path in panic, and collided head on with some kind of force field that blocked off the rest of the floor. An electric crackling was heard for a short moment before Greengrass was sent flying backwards and hit the wall. She remained conscious, but was visibly dizzy when she stood. Harry blinked. A clever way to get cheaters, he thought absently, making them dizzy to make the course that much harder. The sound of gears slowing to a screeching halt came then, as all the obstacles froze. Harry looked across the room and saw that Zabini, still on the floor and clutching the leg that had been grazed by the axe in pain, had still managed to crawl over to the sphere and hit it. The force field appeared again, only to deteriorate away as visible confirmation that it was gone. The group ran to Zabini, Malfoy helping to guide the disoriented Greengrass who fell to her knees and sobbed.

"Why did you have to be a bloody Gryffindor Blaise?" Zabini grinned weakly.

"You're right. We had three of them right here." The three in question let that slide, since it was rare enough to hear Zabini joke that it must have been serious. "I'm not dead yet." Hermione was crouched next to Zabini's leg, and used a cutting charm to remove the pants leg surrounding it. She cringed visibly at the sight of the wound. It was deep, and the edges were tinged green, as though it were somehow already infected.

"Poison," she said. "The axes were all poisoned. What kind of crazy…"

"If there's poison in your body then we need to get an antidote," Greengrass affirmed. She stood, but stumbled. "We need to… to find the way out and get help." Harry shook his head.

"You're right about that, but you're not going anywhere." Greengrass tried to protest, but Harry was firm on the matter. "That field messed you up, and if there's anything else we have to go through like this you'll just slow us down." He took hold of her arm and helped her back onto her knees.

"You need to keep Zabini company anyway," Susan said. "If he falls unconscious there's no telling if he'll wake up again." Hermione rolled Zabini's severed pants leg into a ball and pressed it against Zabini's wound, causing him to hiss in pain.

"I know it hurts, but we need to staunch the blood flow. Otherwise you're going to bleed out well before the poison kills you." Harry instantly regretted teasing Hermione when she'd spent three months struggling through their father's old medical textbooks. "Greengrass, come here and take over this for me. Use a lot of pressure, otherwise it's useless." Greengrass complied, tears brimming in her eyes. Now that Harry thought about it, aside from their occasional associations Harry had never seen her interact with anyone other than Zabini. He breathed in deeply and stood.

"Okay, we _have_ to keep moving now. We don't have a choice." Something had sparked in Harry, and it was demanding that he take charge. "If there's any way out of this place we need to find it and get someone to help. And then we need to find Dumbledore and tear him out for allowing this blasted place to exist. Now come on." He yanked open the black door and marched inside, and without even thinking about it Ron, Susan, Malfoy and Hermione all followed.

* * *

The door slammed shut behind them once they were all inside, leaving them in pitch darkness. That didn't surprise Harry. What surprised him was that in that same instant, the floor fell out from under him. Harry recalled the last time this happened, and braced himself to fall, but the fall never came. At least he didn't think it did. He didn't feel the rushing of air, and in fact it felt almost like he was floating.

"Anyone have any clue what's going on? Harry twisted around to respond to Ron, not expecting to see anything, but to his surprise he could see Ron and the others perfectly fine.

"We seem to have become weightless," Hermione weighed in (pun not intended).

"Thanks Sherlock," Harry said. "Anything else?"

"Is it getting cold in here?" Now that Susan mentioned it, it was becoming rather chilly. The temperature of the air was dropping, rapidly it seemed.

"Great," Ron said sarcastically. "This one's going to freeze us to death."

A pinprick of white appeared in the distance. Harry yelped, remembering the runes in the tunnel, and swung his wand towards it wildly, firing a gouging charm. The sliver of silver that came from his wand's tip flew towards it… and flew… and flew… until it became a distant speck that vanished. Harry blinked in confusion. In the meantime, more and more specks of light filled the background, most of them white but a few in varying shades of blue and pale yellow. The amount of them grew exponentially, until their entire surroundings reminded Harry vaguely of the night sky over Hogwarts…

"… oh, you've GOT to be kidding me!" Harry shouted. "We're in space!" The other four collectively gasped. "How the BLOODY HELL are we in SPACE?!" Hermione looked around in panic before shaking her head with a gulp.

"We can't be in space, Harry. Not really, otherwise we'd be frozen and asphyxiated by now."

"… asphyxiated?"

"It means we'd be choking to death Ron," Susan sighed. Harry shivered.

"Well we're going to be frozen soon enough anyway. Come on; take a good look around everyone. There must be some way to keep going forward, right?" He wasn't so sure himself, but he reasoned that if this were wholly a death trap they'd be dead by now already.

The floated about, turning as best they could. It was rather unfortunate that they were in the circumstances they were, because otherwise a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds floating about in zero gravity would have been remarkably fun. As it was, they were too busy trying to avoid dying to enjoy themselves.

They didn't notice the first shooting star that flashed above them, but the second one passed right in front of Ron's face. Literally.

"OI!" He yelped, flipping in place inadvertently as he tried to jump backwards on instinct. Before anyone could ask him what happened, though, it became apparent, as another bright streak of light shot inbetween them all. And then another, this one coming dangerously close to Susan.

"This is not good!" Malfoy shouted as yet another star flashed by his ear. At one point Harry figured out that they really were stars, as he saw one of the distant points of light turn into one of them. He wasn't certain of what they were or what they would do, but the group seemed to unanimously agree with Malfoy, twisting and turning to avoid the lights as best they could.

Harry was the first to notice the big one. It was the biggest and brightest star in the background to begin with, but when it turned into the shooting variety, it started growing. Harry's eyes grew wide with fear, and he shouted out, calling everyone's attention to it. It was too large to dodge, he realised, and would overtake all of them. He flinched when it came close, and caught a glimpse of Ron, Susan and Malfoy trying to "swim" away from it. Hermione was frozen in fear, her eyes transfixed on the oncoming light, but Harry could do nothing. He was too far away, the light was too close, and he squeezed his eyes shut in terror.

Hermione screamed.


	20. The Face of Lord Voldemort

**This is the penultimate chapter of Mirror of Erised. I intend to post the final chapter today as well, and will simultaneously be posting the first chapter of the second book, Eye of the Basilisk, simultaneously, so that no one who doesn't want to follow me personally and instead wants to just follow my stories (understandable) can do so. Also, for the record, I have never once lied to my readers. I may, however, have told some Jedi Truths. **

In the wake of Hermione's scream gravity seemingly returned. Harry knew this because he collided with the ground rather heavily. In a flash he was on his feet. Light had also come back, although the door was still missing. They'd ended up in a hallway of some sort, lit up by a series of bright torches. Hermione was on her knees, her hands covering her face as she cried in pain. Harry and Malfoy were at either side of her within a second.

"Hermione, what happened? Are you in pain?" Harry asked worriedly. Hermione only nodded, chocking out a sob. Malfoy rubbed her back soothingly.

"C'mon Hermione, move your hands, let's take a look…" Malfoy's voice was filled with concern, and Harry was suddenly very glad that Hermione had him for a friend. Her chest shaking from fought back sobs, Hermione let her hands move down from her face, leaving Harry, Malfoy, Ron and Susan to stare in horror. Her eyes were completely white. The pupils and irises had vanished, leaving nothing but a blank creamy colour. A trail down her cheeks was stained red, as were her palms, and the reason for this became clear when a crimson tear fell from her eyes; she was crying blood.

"This is bad. This is really, really bad," Malfoy said.

"Draco, I… I can't see anything," Hermione sobbed. Malfoy shook his head.

"I can't imagine you would. I've read about this curse. That star must have carried it or something. If it hits your eyes, it causes blindness, bleeding… it blocks your ability to see and slowly destroys your eyes from the inside." Malfoy gulped. "They say Voldemort himself invented it." There was a moment of abject horror as that sank in. Harry's jaw dropped as he caressed the back of Hermione's head in a vain attempt at comfort.

"There's a countercurse, right? You said you'd read about this spell, you must know it."

"No," Malfoy shook his head. "I don't know it. But Madame Pomfrey would. It was a favourite of the Death Eaters and she fought in the war. It works slowly too, so if Hermione gets to her quickly…"

"Then what are we waiting for!"

"Harry," Susan said gently. "We still don't know if there's even a way out of here."

"I don't care!" Harry snarled. "We still have to try! Come on, Malfoy, help me lift her up-"

"No, Harry," Hermione sniffled. "You have to leave me here. I'll just get in the way if I keep going." Harry shook his head.

"There's no way in hell we're leaving you."

"Just like we didn't leave Greengrass and Zabini?" Malfoy observed dryly. Harry stared at him, before gulping in defeat.

"Fine. Then I'm staying here with you."

"The hell you are. Next to Hermione you're the best one here with magic and you know it," Malfoy argued. "Not to mention you've got some special immunity to mind magic, if those two run into trouble with it again they're going to need you. I'll stay."

"But-"

"He's right Harry," Hermione said, sniffling. "Draco will take care of me, you just go get us help. Greengrass and Zabini are counting on us all, it's the best way. And I trust you." She smiled weakly to show her support-in entirely the wrong direction-and that alone left Harry with no choice. He sighed.

"All right. Me, Ron and Susan will keep going. Malfoy, you keep her safe, yeah?" Malfoy nodded.

"Good luck Granger. You too Weasley, Bones." Susan nodded, while Ron just gave Malfoy a calculating look before the two of them turned and started walking. Harry pressed his forehead against Hermione's quickly before taking off after them, fighting back any displays of emotion.

They walked for what felt like miles after that, going down the twisting turning hall that didn't seem to have an end point. It was just the three of them then, just like all of the late night explorations they'd gone on before, but this time was entirely different. There were no jokes, no sneaking, no running from Filch or discovering the wondrous secrets of an ancient, magical castle. Their friends and acquaintances were injured. They were far below the school, and no one knew they were there. For all they knew they were just walking straight towards another trap to get through. They couldn't even be sure that there was a way out the way they were going. No, this was entirely different, and the only thing it had in common with their adventures was that they were alone.

"How much further, d'you think?"

"I don't know Ron," Susan snapped. "Probably at least as far as we've gone since the last time you asked."

"I'm just asking Susan. We've been walking forever!" Harry rolled his eyes and was about to tell them both to knock it off when he heard a murmur. The others eyes grew wide, indicating they'd heard it too, and together they took off at a run. It crossed Harry's mind that it could easily be another trap, but with the state they'd left his sister in he was willing to take that risk.

The murmur grew louder, steadily evolving into actual words and sentences, although it was difficult to make out. It stopped quite suddenly, likely because of the volume of their footsteps as they ran, but they kept going just as fast, finally passing into a large chamber which featured only a set of columns supporting the ceiling and a pedestal in the centre. Laid on the pedestal was some kind of blood red stone covered with a glass dome, and pacing around it was a vaguely familiar man in a red turban. Susan apparently knew who he was, because she called out to him.

"Professor," she yelled, immediately before crossing over the threshold into the room. As she did though, alongside Ron and just behind Harry, she collapsed to the ground, Ron quickly following. Harry staggered but remained upright, and twisted to look at his friends in horror.

"Ron, Susan! What are you doing, get up!"

"They won't wake up, Mr Granger. Not for a while anyway." Harry spun around to look at the man in the turban.

"What do you mean? How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"Inquisitive, aren't you?" The man chuckled. "In reverse, I suppose. I am Professor Quirrel, the Muggle Studies teacher. You, of course, would not know me, having never taken the class yourself. I know you though. Oh but do I know you. My master has taken the most curious interest in you, Granger, a fact that I cannot quite understand given your origins. He isn't the biggest fan of muggleborns you see. And as for your friends, there is a ward over the entrance. Anyone who crosses the entrance falls into a deep sleep. My master was able to help me resist it, though I can't say why you're awake. It's very subtle, I have to admit, even my master did not sense it. Some of Dumbledore's finest work." Harry's eyes went wide.

"So Dumbledore really is responsible for all of this? All of the traps and things?" Quirrel shook with laughter.

"No, boy, he only created this room. The rest were done by the teachers. The tunnel of compulsions was created by Professors Babbling and Vector, if I'm not mistaken. The obstacle course has Minerva's Transfiguration written all over it, although the poisons tell me that Severus was involved in that as well." He winced at the thought and glanced at his left arm. Or rather, where his left arm was supposed to be. Harry noticed rather belatedly that there was no hand, and that the sleeve of his robe hung loose below a blotchy stain of red and green. He must have been caught by one of the axes. "The star room was without question Professor Black's work. Sirius always did have a taste for the dramatic. And I, of course, hired the ogre. How ever did you get past him, by the way? I was told he was the best."

"Er… teamwork and creative use of a Hovering Charm," Harry answered, growing more confused by the minute. "Just what's all this for, anyway?"

"Why, for me of course!" Quirrel grinned. "To trap me, wound me, catch me in the act. None of them were sure, of course, that I wanted to steal the Stone, but better safe than sorry I suppose. It would have worked, too, but even doddering old Dumbledore didn't anticipate that I would have my master's power behind me, to counter the charms or keep me going when my arm was severed." Harry had no idea what the Stone was that Quirrel was talking about-presumably the one on the pedestal-and he didn't care. His attention was turned to one entirely more important detail.

"You keep talking about your master," he said cautiously. "The one who's interested in me. Who is he?" Quirrel was examining the pedestal again, and didn't bother turning back around.

"My master is the one who is beyond life and death. The darkest of dark lords, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The rest of wizarding kind may have forgotten to fear his name but I never shall." Harry's eyes grew wide.

"… Voldemort." Quirrel rounded back on him, sneering.

"Do not speak his name," he growled. "You are not worthy of it." Harry gulped.

"How… how can you be working for Vol… um, You-Know-Who? I thought he was destroyed ten years ago."

"Not destroyed…" That wasn't Quirrel's voice. It was raspier, higher pitched, and far, far colder. In fact Quirrel wasn't even moving his lips. "Broken…" Harry looked around.

"Who said that?"

"No one for you to concern yourself with Granger. Now, you've distracted me quite enough." Quirrel drew his wand in a rapid motion and pointed it at Harry. Without even having to say a word Harry's wand flew from his own hand, and silver ropes sprung from the ground, snatching at his wrists and yanking him to his knees. "Let's see… what enchantments are on this case. I can feel them, and they are strong. No doubt they would destroy me if I attempted to remove it…" He was ignoring Harry, who thought very hard. It actually made sense that the place was designed to lure one person in, if Harry thought about it. The button that stopped the obstacles made it so only one person had to cross. Black's star room had turned off as soon as Hermione was stricken with the curse. Even the ward on this very room, the sleeping one, was made ineffective the more people who crossed it. If even one person remained awake, they could revive the others. And it was all to protect this Stone thing?

"What do you want this Stone thing for? If you don't mind my asking?" Harry had been raised to get all the answers he could. The more he knew about Quirrel and his motivations, the better he could do. Quirrel side-eyed him.

"I thought I told you I was done with you distracting me." He sighed. "Oh, very well. I'm not making much progress with the case anyway. This, my boy, is the Philosopher's Stone. You may have heard of it, I'm told Muggles have a legend or two about it." Harry thought hard. He somewhat remembered years before when he'd learned about alchemy and set about trying to make his own gold.

"It's the ultimate goal of alchemists, right? Turns metals into gold?"

"Very good Granger. Yes, it can do that, but the real one has a much more desirable effect. It will turn water into a substance called the Elixir of Life, which will grant anyone who drinks it immortality." Harry whistled lowly.

"I can see why you'd be tempted to steal it."

"Oh, but it's not for me. It's for my master. He believes the Elixir will allow him to restore his powers. If I could find a way to get to it, that is."

"Use the boy." There was that voice again. It sounded almost familiar to Harry, as though he'd heard it once before, a long time ago. "I understand the enchantment Quirrel. You must use the boy." Quirrel did not, in any way, look happy with this idea, but he complied anyway. With a wave of his wand the ropes binding Harry's wrists retracted and faded away, allowing him to stand.

"Very well Granger. You're about to make yourself useful to the greatest wizard who ever lived. I suggest you take pride in it, as it's likely the last thing you'll ever do." He beckoned Harry forward. "Come here and remove the glass." When Harry didn't move he sighed in an exasperated manner. "Allow me to rephrase. Come here and remove the glass, or I'll kill you where you stand." He raised his wand to make a point, and Harry started walking. He was brave, not an idiot.

The glass buzzed. That was the only word to describe it. Harry could feel the magic emanating off of it, and it very much scared him. He raised his hands up to take the glass, and his palms began tingling from what felt like raw energy tickling them, and he was suddenly certain, just as Quirrel was, that if he touched it he would not survive.

"Wait!" Harry yanked his hands back, and Quirrel glared.

"Come on boy, I don't have all day!"

"If… if I'm going to do this, I want to know what that voice was." Quirrel's eyes grew wide. "I mean if he's the one who wants me to risk myself and all."

"The voice was my master, boy."

"He's here?!" Harry half shouted. Quirrel laughed.

"The Dark Lord is with me wherever I go. He is a part of me, and I am a part of him."

"You are fooling yourself, Quirrel, if you believe that you are in any way part of me," the voice spoke suddenly, startling both Harry and Quirrel. "If you are quite done speaking for me, I would like to have a word with the boy." Quirrel's mouth opened in surprise.

"Master, you aren't strong enough. It's been too long since your last feeding-"

"I will speak with him! I have strength enough for this." Quirrel gulped, and stepped back from Harry, bringing his hands to his turban. Slowly he unwound it, and just as slowly Harry realised exactly what was going on. The moment it all clicked was when the wrappings fell to the floor, just before Quirrel turned around.

"… oh my god, he's on the back of your head." Quirrel turned, and there was the face of Lord Voldemort, carved into where a patch of hair had been removed like the world's most disturbing bald spot.

"Very astute, Harry. Quirrel _is_ on the back of my head." Voldemort chuckled at his own joke. "It is nice to see you face to face… after all of these years."

Harry was only barely registering what was going on at this point, having entered a state of sheer catatonic terror from the moment he figured out that Lord bloody Voldemort was on the back of the Muggle Studies teacher's head, but he still caught the significance of Voldemort's words.

"Wh-wh-what do you mean 'after all these years,'" he stammered. Voldemort smiled a terrifying smile.

"Come now Harry. You and Dumbledore may have deceived the rest of the school, and even the rest of the wizarding world, but you cannot deceive me. I know the truth as well as you."

"You… you might know the truth a little better than me…" Harry trailed off.

"Ten years, Harry. Ten years I have waited, and watched. Ten years I have plotted to find whoever murdered you, and kill them myself for robbing me of my foretold victory. And then I arrive at Hogwarts on the back of Quirrel's head, to find you alive and well. I would say you don't know how happy it made me, but then, you should have died the first time I tried to kill you, that Halloween so long ago." Harry blinked, processing what had just been said.

"Wait… you don't mean…"

"Of course I do. I know exactly who you are. How could I not. You look so much like your father, after all, but it's the eyes that give you away. You have your mother's eyes, Harry Potter."


	21. Harry Potter

**Best review ever: Dun dun DUNNN! In other news, Voldemort may seem to be acting out of character here. There is in fact a good reason for his less psychotic and more playful demeanour here, and no, I'm not going to tell you what it is.**

Harry's head swam. So much suddenly made sense. So much that he couldn't believe how idiotic he'd been to miss it before. He shared a first name with the wizarding world's saviour, and a birthday. The Boy Who Lived had vanished after Voldemort's fall, and he was adopted. And his parents! Professor Black had shown him a picture of his birth parents, and Voldemort was entirely right. He did look almost exactly like James Potter, but Lily Potter's eyes were a perfect match for his. That was why he had fixated on her that night, because her eyes were so familiar.

He was Harry Potter.

"My Lord?" Quirrel piped in, his voice a mess of confusion. "What are you talking about my Lord? I can't understand you?"

"Oh, be quiet Quirrel," Voldemort snapped. He turned his attention back to Harry. "I must admit, it is impressive how well you and Dumbledore have managed to conceal your identity. Every time I try to explain to Quirrel who you really are he cannot understand a word I say." Harry blinked. Now _that_ part was weird. If he was really the famous Harry Potter, how had nobody realised it? Especially not someone like Black, who'd been his parents' best friend, or McGonagall, who would have taught them. "How did Dumbledore manage it? It would be a wonderful effect to replicate." Still petrified, Harry shrugged.

"Uh… he never really explained it to me," he improvised. If Voldemort wanted to assume he was regularly speaking to Dumbledore, let him. The idea of the boy who defeated him as a toddler receiving personal instruction from Albus Dumbledore would probably give him pause at the thought of picking a fight. "Said it was too complex for me to understand yet." Voldemort shook his face, which looked extremely weird as the rest of Quirrel's head stayed in place.

"More's the pity. The old man always did underestimate those under him. I think you're smarter than he gives you credit for, Harry." Voldemort's use of his first name was perhaps the most unnerving thing Harry had ever experienced. "Perhaps you'd appreciate learning from someone who appreciates your skills. Someone who won't try to keep you from reaching your true potential, as Dumbledore once tried to do to me. Would that… interest you, Harry?"

"… this is without a doubt the strangest and most terrifying day of my life." After all, it wasn't every day that the darkest wizard in a century offered to make you his apprentice. That was some scary stuff there. "Could I get back to you on that?" Voldemort's smile was also among the more unnerving things that Harry had ever experienced, although the given name thing would be hard to top.

"It's good to see, Harry, that you have not yet been so brainwashed by the idea of morality that you can't see a tempting offer when it presents itself. Consider my offer an open one, one that you may take whenever you wish." Harry had no intention of ever taking it, but Voldemort didn't need to know that. "In the meantime, Harry, would you kindly lift the glass so that I can retrieve my Stone?" Oh, yes, the glass that would most certainly kill him if he touched it. Wonderful.

"Er… why do you think I can lift it for you? Because, um, no offense, but I can feel it from here and I'm, er, inclined to disagree," Harry stalled.

"Already looking for my tutelage, Harry? Good, good. The glass is protected by a myriad of enchantments designed to destroy anyone who lifts it, but no one, of course, would be able to use the Stone if there were no way to remove it. There is one in particular, though, that is rather ingenious in its simplicity, if a bit cliché. It can only be removed by someone who is truly pure of heart." Harry stared, and then scoffed, hard.

"I'm not exactly pure of heart you know. I'm a troublemaking prankster with a really, really vicious sense of revenge."

"Oh you foolish boy, you misunderstand me. This particular brand of enchantment can mean what you are saying, but think about the implications. Do you really think that Dumbledore is pure of heart? That he has never been driven by ambition, aimed for lofty goals, and stepped on anyone he could to get his way? It's the way he does things, Harry." Voldemort chuckled. "No, all it will mean is someone who has never performed Dark Magic. It leaves a mark on the soul you know. Others believe that makes you less of a person, and thus this brand of ward was created, but really it means nothing. Now, I believe you have stalled long enough. Help me, Harry, and you will be greatly rewarded." Harry gulped. So Voldemort had seen through him. Well, it wasn't like he wasn't obvious about it. With trembling hands, Harry reached for the glass casing, again troubled by the buzz of magic. Voldemort was wrong about Dumbledore. The man was pure, Harry was sure of that, and that was why he was going to die. Not that Voldemort probably didn't want that anyway, being defeated by a baby is hardly the kind of humiliation a person just got over.

_CRACK_

And explosive crack of the air sounded behind Harry, and he drew his hands back faster than human reflexes should have reasonably been able to achieve. He turned around on the spot, and standing in the middle of the room like a knight in shining armour was none other than Albus freaking Dumbledore. Harry had never, in his entire life, been happier to see a teacher.

"Well Tom I have to admit, you have for the first time in your life truly and utterly surprised me. I did not expect to see you here." Lord Voldemort's first name was Tom. It was so hilarious that Harry literally forgot to laugh. Although that might have been because he was too preoccupied with his terror. He stepped backwards as quickly as he could, Voldemort thankfully paying him no mind.

"Dumbledore. What a… pleasant surprise."

"So, Quirinus, is this what your turban has been hiding all this time?" Dumbledore's tone was surprisingly cordial considering the people he was talking to. Quirrel smirked cheekily.

"It would have been a ski mask but the Dark Lord had a hard time breathing."

"And if I might ask why were you filling it with garlic earlier in the year?"

"I do still need to eat real food, Albus," Voldemort replied, his tone just as amicable. "And you know I always did love garlic."

"Wonderful. Well, I can see that you and Harry have been here for a while, and you have no intention of touching the glass, so I should probably tell you that the Stone is a fake." Silence met Dumbledore's cheery grin.

"… what?" Voldemort was less cheery now.

"The Stone is a fake. What, did you think I'd honestly go to all this trouble allowing Quirrel back into my school, setting up these traps, and leaving even the slightest possibility that you or he could somehow find a workaround for all of it and make off with Nicholas's finest invention?" Voldemort was silent yet again. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"… yes. Yes it does. Far more sense than if the Stone were real." Voldemort paused. "I think we can both assume you're not going to trust Quirrel again, correct?" Dumbledore nodded. "And you aren't going to let me leave in his body, are you?" This time he shook his head. The pleasant grin never once left his face. Quirrel, however, paled.

"M-m-master? You aren't thinking of abandoning me here, are you?"

"Of course I am Quirrel, you useless twit." Gone was any façade of pleasantness in Voldemort's manner. "You're useless to me."

"Not going to stay for tea, Tom?"

"Hardly," Voldemort snarled.

"Ah well," Dumbledore sighed. "You know, when you were younger you were the only one who appreciated my sherbet lemons. Very well. I'll just have to have my tea with Quirinus."

"There is a problem with that Dumbledore. Quirinus is actually dead." Quirrel yelped. "Well his body is anyway. I'm the only thing keeping him alive. Once I'm gone, well… allow me to demonstrate." Quirrel shook once, and then again. Dumbledore stepped forward, his face suddenly deadly serious, but it was already too late for him to do anything. The face vanished from the back of Quirrel's head, and his mouth was rent open. A plume of smoke rose out of it, and fled from the room, passing through the stone walls like they weren't even there. As soon as it was gone Quirrel's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his skin began deteriorating. His entire body slowly disintegrated, until it was nothing more than ash.

Harry stared at it in horror.

"What a waste of such a bright young mind," Dumbledore sighed. He walked over to Harry and placed and hand on his shoulder. "Harry? Listen, your friends are all right, they're already being tended to. Ms Bones and Mr Weasley will both be retrieved shortly, but in the meantime I'd like you to come with me. There are things we must discuss. Is that alright?" Harry nodded mutely, still shocked by the horror that he'd just seen. There was another cracking sound, this one faint, and Harry quite suddenly felt like he was being squeezed very tightly. It lasted only a brief second, and then they were in what Harry assumed to be Dumbledore's office. It was very large and very round, filled with all manner of devices with seemingly no purpose other than to have spinning parts. Dumbledore led Harry to a desk and allowed him to sit before waving his wand, causing a cup of tea to appear before him. Harry took the tea and slowly sipped at it, the feeling returning to his fingers, something he marvelled at as he hadn't even realised that it had gone away. Without the pile of ash that was once Quirrel sitting right in front of him, it was easy to put it to the back of his mind and ignore it.

"Alright Harry," Dumbledore said, taking his own seat at the other side of the desk. "I can surmise, for the most part, what happened with you and your friends in the gauntlet, up to your entrance to the chamber with the Stone. Before I can ask you anything, though, I need to know if there's anything that you need to ask me." Harry looked up from his tea. Dumbledore had a curious expression, and Harry understood where Dumbledore was leading him.

"Down in the chamber… with the Stone… Voldemort told me something. And I know from what I've heard about the war that he's not really that trustworthy, but it made so much sense that I believe him. But I have to be sure… sir, am I Harry Potter?" Dumbledore peered down at Harry through his half-moon glasses, and just by the way he was looking at him Harry could tell what the answer was already.

"No." … well that was a surprise.

"But sir, I-" Dumbledore held up a hand.

"Allow me to finish please, Harry." Dumbledore sighed and conjured up his own cup of tea. "The story of Harry Potter is a fascinating one, unprecedented in magical history on multiple counts. First and foremost, he was the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse. Second, he was the first to be physically marked by the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra is noted for its unique ability to rip the soul from the body without damaging it, and yet Harry Potter bore a scar on his forehead." There was something Harry didn't understand; he had no lightning bolt scar, when every source said he should have had one. "And the third is that he is the first person ever to have their identity hidden by the Fidelius Charm." Harry blinked. That spell, he hadn't heard of.

"Sir?"

"The Fidelius Charm, Harry, is a unique spell that relies on a very specific set of rules. It entrusts knowledge to one individual, known as the Secret Keeper. This Secret Keeper is then the only person who can tell others that knowledge, that secret. One of the lesser known quirks, though, is that it cannot hide a secret behind a lie. If I were to, say, place the Fidelius upon Shell Cottage, the house where I spend my summers, with myself as Secret Keeper, I could not then say "Albus Dumbledore's summer home is in Belgium," as it is, in fact, in Cornwall. It is a spell which relies on trust, and is therefore broken by lies. As such, no person can hide themselves under the Fidelius. They would have to lie about who they are in order to get by, in turn breaking the charm.

"Harry Potter, however, was in the unique position of, well, being one. I left him on his aunt and uncle's doorstep, believing that it was the safest possible place for him. I could use old magic to protect him there, you see. Unfortunately, his uncle did not want him. The moment he found that boy on his doorstep, he took him to someone else, a complete stranger. It is very fortunate, and I am thankful to this day, that the people he was left with were a kind, loving family. Muggle dentists, I believe." Harry blinked, realisation dawning on him. "I took where Harry had been left from his uncle's mind. I am ashamed to say that I was not gentle in my anger. Afterwards I Oblivated him, to make him forget that Harry had ever even been there. I was even less gentle then." Dumbledore sighed. "I tracked him down and, on seeing the wonderful family he had found with the Grangers, helped facilitate their adoption of him. I declared to the world that Harry Potter was dead, and placed the Fidelius Charm myself. There was not an untrue word spoken that day. Harry Potter had died. And in his place, Harry Granger would live."

It was a lot for Harry to process. In all honesty, his lie to Voldemort had been completely correct; it really was above his ability to truly understand. But he got the point of what Dumbledore was saying.

"I _was_ Harry Potter," Harry said slowly. "A long time ago. But now that's not who I am." Dumbledore nodded, smiling.

"Exactly, Harry. The name given to us at birth does not represent the person that we are. Lord Voldemort, for instance, is a very far cry from Tom Riddle, the young man he used to be.

You are not Harry Potter, and thanks to the Fidelius, no one will ever realise that you once were… even if the eyes do somewhat give it away." Harry nodded in understanding, but then frowned.

"But sir, if I'm protected by this Fidelius thing, then how did Voldemort recognize me. I mean Quirrel didn't."

"Professor Quirrel, Harry," Dumbledore chided, seemingly ignoring that Quirrel had helped a psychotic mass murderer. "And as to why Voldemort did not recognize you, I could not say for sure. However, I do have a theory." Dumbledore stood and moved to the window, musing. "It has been shown, in the past, that the Fidelius Charm only works on wizards. Muggles, animals, centaurs, even magical artefacts find themselves unfooled. With the destruction of his original body Voldemort has fully departed from humanity, and entered into a state of being so inhuman that he could not rightly be called a wizard. It does not surprise me, now that I look at it, that Voldemort would be immune to the Fidelius Charm. It is, however, very fortunate that only he can see through it. There is nothing he could possibly say to his minions to justify going after you, a single unassuming muggleborn." He turned around.

"I believe, Harry, that I can piece together the remainder of the night's events on my own. That was really what I wanted to find out." He looked sympathetically at Harry. "For what it was worth, I had intended to tell you myself at the end of this year. I had to know what kind of person you were first, though. Whether you would embrace your past or your present. It was never my intention for you to find out as you did." Harry nodded solemnly. "I know you must have many questions of your own, and I promise you there will come a time not long from now when we will speak candidly, about both the past and the future. For now, though, it is quite late, and you've been through an ordeal. Bed rest is in order."

"Erm, sir?" Harry cleared his throat. "My friends are, well, could I, er, see them?" Dumbledore paused, before softly chuckling.

"Now that I think on it, it may be prudent for you to spend at least one night in the Hospital Wing. Come, I'll see you down." Harry smiled.

"Thank you sir. Oh, and sir? My friends… can I tell them about my big secret?" Dumbledore shrugged.

"You could try. It would, of course, make as much sense to them as Mermish." They laughed all the way down Dumbledore's awesome revolving escalator.

* * *

It was, according to Dumbledore, four in the morning-had they really been down there that long?-but the Hospital Wing was still alive and bustling. Madame Pomfrey, the nurse, was running about with her wand out, summoning bottles of potions and casting spell after spell behind a curtain. Harry cast his gaze around the wing. Ron and Susan lay on their beds, sleeping peacefully, and Zabini was knocked out with a tube running from his arm to an upturned vial of blue potion. Greengrass and Malfoy, on the other hand, had their eyes fixed on the curtain nervously, and Harry instantly knew who was behind it. A pit of dread settled into his stomach. Dumbledore, however, only squeezed his shoulder and led him to a bed between his Gryffindor friends.

"I'll have a word with Madame Pomfrey," he offered comfortingly before disappearing behind the curtain himself. Harry cast a questioning gaze to Malfoy, who seemed to get the look. He lifted eight fingers and mouthed the word minutes, which to Harry was not a good sign. When Dumbledore retreated, though, he was smiling. "You have nothing to worry about, Harry. We were able to get Ms. Granger here in time to save her vision. It will unfortunately be a bit impaired in the future, but I've always said glasses were a sign of wisdom." He tapped his own, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Dumbledore stayed for a few minutes to explain to him and the other two still awake why it was such a tricky curse and the reason it took so long to undo, but Harry barely listened, too wrapped up in his own relief that she would be okay.

In the morning she and Ron and Susan and Zabini would all wake up. Hermione would be fitted for a pair of glasses and kept a few nights for examination, while Zabini would rest while the poison left his system. The damage to his leg was severe enough that he would have a limp for the rest of his life, but Greengrass insisted that canes were dignified. They would all be out well in time for exams, a shame in Harry's opinion, and have a grand adventure to tell everyone when the morning came. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin received a substantial amount of points that night for bravery in the face of a terrible situation, which would find many Hufflepuffs dismayed the next morning as their first lead towards the House Cup in two decades was lost, but they would all later concede that tying Slytherin for second after Gryffindor wasn't entirely terrible.

Hermione would freak out about the exams only to get at least a hundred on every single one, while Harry, Susan and Ron would be laid back about the whole affair and do well, excellent and passable respectively. They would find a compartment large enough to fit everyone on the train home, as the entire adventure had cemented everyone who'd been in the gauntlet as friends save Malfoy and Ron (they at least respected each other, anyway). After such an unpredictable night, Harry was certain of all of these things, but at the moment he couldn't care about any of it. He was alive, his friends were safe, his sister would be okay, and as he laid back on his pillow, he was content.

**Continued in Harry Granger and the Eye of the Basilisk.**


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